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LOUIS    CORNARO 
1464 -.566 


From  the  painting  by  Tintoretto  No.  83,  Pitti  Palace  Gallery 

Photographed  by  Alinari  Brothers,  Florence 


The  Art  of 


LIVING   LONG 


A  NEW  AND  IMPROVED  ENGLISH  VERSION 
OF  THE  TREATISE  OF  THE 


Celebrated  Venetian  Centenarian 


LOUIS  CORNARO^ 


with  essays  by 
Joseph  Addison,  Lord  Bacon,  and  Sir  William  Temple 


Here  is  everything  advantageous  to  life. 

— "The  Tempest" 


milwaukee 

William  F.  Butler 

1903 


BOST'Ol'  COLLEGE  LIBEAlf 
CHESTNUT  HILL,  MA^i, 


i 


9'!t 


Copyright,  1903 

By  William  F-  Btjtlek 

All  rights  reserved 


PRETACE 


Against  diseases  Tcnown,  the  strongest  fence 
Is  the  defensive  virtue,  abstinence. 

— Benjamin  Franklin. 


rOR  a  people  of  whom  less  than  a  two-hundredth  part 
of  one  per  cent,  reach  an  age  that  Nature  intends  all 
should  pass,*  the  words  of  the  aged  author  of  "The 
Temperate  Life"  possess  a  deep  import.  To  them  this  volume 
is  addressed. 

Louis  Cornaro's  own  account — written  toward  the  close 
of  more  than  a  century  of  life — of  the  means  of  his  complete 
restoration  from  an  almost  hopeless  complication  of  bodily 
infirmities,  to  the  happy  state  he  continued  so  long  to  enjoy, 
may  be  said  to  form  a  life  story,  which,  in  its  peculiar  sig- 
nificance, is  without  a  parallel  in  history. 

Not 

"By  showing  conclusively  and  clearly 
■  That  death  is  a  stupid  blunder  merely. 
And  not  a  necessity  of  our  lives/' 

but  by  demonstrating,  in  a  manner  most  decisive,  that  the 
condition  of  perfect  health — maintained  to  the  full  limit  of 
life  ordained  by  Nature — is  a  blessing  within  the  power  of 
every  human  being  to  realize,  and  by  indicating  the  path  by 
which  all  may  attain  it,  did  this  excellent  man  earn  his  unique 

*  See   Note  A 


THE   ABT   OF   LIVING  LONG 

position  among  the  benefactors  of  mankind.  Let  us  hope 
that  our  positive  and  practical  age,  ever  ready  to  judge  a 
proposition  by  its  degree  of  usefulness,  will  perceive  that  a 
rule  of  life  which  effected  the  recovery  of  a  dying  man,  and 
enabled  him  to  retain  entire  mental  and  bodily  vigor  beyond 
his  hundredth  year,  is  of  incontestable  merit. 

While  there  are  some,  who,  though  of  the  number  of 
Cornaro's  most  zealous  pupils,  regret  that  he  permitted  wine 
to  form  a  portion  of  his  abstemious  diet;  yet,  when  his 
position  on  this  question  is  contrasted  with  the  prevailing 
custom  of  his  country  and  age,  his  life  is  none  the  less 
recognized  by  all,  as  one  of  the  most  salutary  examples 
of  a  truly  temperate  career  the  world  has  yet  witnessed. 

A  carefully  revised  version  of  his  celebrated  treatise, 
made  by  able  translators,  is  here  presented.  As  a  result  of 
painstaking  researches  among  ancient  documents  in  the 
archives  of  Venice  and  Padua,  historical  matter  relating  to 
Cornaro  and  his  family  is  also  placed  before  the  reader. 
Much  of  this  is  not  to  be  found  in  any  previous  edition  of 
his  works,  in  the  various  languages  into  which  they  have 
been  rendered. 

Of  the  other  eminent  writers  whose  teachings  on  the 
subject  of  longevity  we  have  included  in  this  volume,  little 
need  here  be  said.  One  of  them,  not  many  years  after  the 
famous  centenarian  had  passed  away,  emphasized  to  the 
world,  in  the  Latin  tongue,  the  substantial  advantages 
Cornaro  had  reaped  from  the  habit  of  complete  self-restraint 
to  which  he  had  accustomed  himself  in  early  manhood,  and 
from  which,  for  the  remainder  of  his  days,  he  had  never 
deviated.  A  century  after  Bacon,  in  the  graceful  tribute 
which  Addison — one  of  the  most  practical  philosophers  of  his 
age — pays  to  Cornaro,  we  have  an  introduction  to  the  work 
of  the  illustrious  Venetian  that  is  truly  worthy  of  his  theme. 

Acknowledgment  for  valuable  assistance  is  gratefully 
made  to  Conte  Comm.  Filippo  Grimani,  LL.  D.,  the  honored 
Mayor  of  Venice ;  Cav.  Prof.  Angelo  Scrinzi,  Ph.  D.,  Director 
of  the  Venetian  Civic  Museum,  and  Dr.  Ricciotti  Bratti,  his 


[8] 


PEEFACE 

associate;  as  well  as  Dr.  Prof.  Andrea  Moschetti,  Director 
of  the  Civic  Museum  of  Padua.  Thanks  are  due,  also,  to 
Dr.  Prof.  Emilio  Lovarini,  of  Bologna,  and  Signor  Michele 
Danesi,  Editor  of  "L'Arte,"  Rome,  for  their  kind  revision  of 
the  translation  of  "The  Villas  Erected  by  Louis  Cornaro," 
and  for  their  consent  to  its  publication.  To  Cav.  Dr.  Enrico 
Ridolfi,  Director  of  the  Royal  Galleries  and  National  Museum 
of  Florence,  and  to  the  photographers  Signori  Fratelli  Alinari, 
of  the  same  city,  this  work  is  indebted  for  the  copy  of  the 
Tintoretto  painting  of  Louis  Cornaro.  Credit  is  accorded, 
for  many  helpful  courtesies,  to  Miss  Ida  M.  Street,  author  of 
"Ruskin's  Principles  of  Art  Criticism,"  and  Messrs.  Willard 
G.  Bleyer,  of  the  University  of  Wisconsin,  and  John  G. 
Gregory,  of  Milwaukee. 

W.  F.  B. 
Milwaukee,  March,  1903. 


[9] 


Bosom  up  my  counsel; 

You  II  find  it  wholesome. — William  Shakespeare. 

Deign,  reader,  to  he  taught, 
Whate'er  thy  strength  of  body,  force  of  thought. 

— David  Oarrick. 


Know,  prudent,  cautious,  self-control 

Is  wisdom's  root. 

— Robert  Burns. 


Wouldst  thou  enjoy  a  long  life,  a  healthy  body,  and 
a  vigorous  mind,  and  be  acquainted  also  with  the  wonder- 
ful works  of  God,  labor  in  the  first  place  to  bring  thy 
appetite  to  reason. — Benjamin  Franklin. 

There  is  no  chance  in  results. — Ralph  Waldo  Emerson. 


CONTENTS 


Page 

Preface 7 

Introduction 

"To  Louis   Cornaro."— Randall 13 

Addison,  in  "The  Spectator,"  October  13,  1711 15 


Part  I 


The  Life  and  Writings  of  Louis  Cornaro 25 

"The  Temperate  Life"  by  Louis  Cornaro 

First   Discourse 39 

Second   Discourse TJ 

Third  Discourse 91 

Fourth    Discourse 103 


Part  II 


Selections  from  Lord  Bacon's  "History  of  Life  and 

Death,"  etc 117 

Selections  from  Sir  William  Temple's  "Health  and 

Long  Life,"  etc 141 

Appendix 

A  Short  History  of  the  Cornaro  Family 159 

Some  Account  of  Eminent  Cornaros 169 

Gamba's  Eulogy  upon  Louis  Cornaro 179 

Lovarini's  "The  Villas  Erected  by  Louis  Cornaro".  .  191 

Notes   209 

Portraits 

Louis   Cornaro 4 

Joseph  Addison 52 

Lord  Bacon 102 

Sir  William  Temple 152 

The  Cornaro  Coat  of  Arms 6 


If  any  man  can  convince  me  and  bring  home  to 
me  that  I  do  not  think  or  act  aright,  gladly  will  I 
change;  for  I  search  after  truth,  by  which  man  never 
yet  was  harmed.  But  he  is  harmed  who  abideth  on  still 
in  his  deception  and  ignorance. 

Do  not  thinh  that  what  is  hard  for  thee  to  master 
is  impossible  for  man;  but  if  a  thing  is  possible  and 
proper  to  man,  deem  it  attainable  by  thee. 

Persevere  then  until  thou  shall  have  made  these 
things  thy  own. 

Like  a  mariner  who  has  doubled  the  promontory, 

thou  wilt  find  calm,  everything  stable,  and  a  waveless 

bay. 

— Marcus  Aurelius  Antoninus. 


INTRODUCTION 


TO   LOUIS   COKNAKO 

BY 

John  Witt  Randall  * 


0  thou  that  for  an  hundred  years 

Didst  lightly  tread  the  ancestral  hall. 

Yet  sawest  thy  brethren  bathed  in  tears. 
Cut  down  ere  ripe,  and  round  thee  fall, — 

Well  didst  thou  deem  long  life  the  measure 
Of  long  enjoyment  to  the  wise. 

To  fools  alone  devoid  of  pleasure; 
Thou  wouldst  not  die  as  the  fool  dies. 

Bobbed  of  thy  titles,  lands,  and  health. 
With  man  and  fortune  in  disgrace. 

In  wisdom  didst  thou  seek  thy  wealth. 
Thy  peace  in  friendship  to  thy  race. 

With  thine  eleven  grandchildren  met. 
Thou  couldst  at  will  become  the  boy; 

And,  thine  own  sorrows  to  forget, 
Couldst  lose  thyself  in  others'  joy, — 

*  See  Note  B 

[13] 


THE   ART    OP   LIVING   LONG 

Couldst  mount  thy  horse  when  past  fourscore. 
And  climb  steep  hills ,  and  on  dull  days 

Cheer  the  long  hours  with  learned  lore. 
Or  spend  thy  wit  on  tales  and  plays. 

In  summer,  thou  wast  friend  of  flowers. 
And,  when  the  winter  nights  grew  long. 

And  music  cheered  the  evening  hours. 
Still  clearest  was  the  old  man's  song. 

Thus,  while  thy  calm  and  thoughtful  mind 

The  ravages  of  time  survived. 
Three  generations  of  mankind 

Dropped  round  thee,  joyless  and  short-lived. 

Thou  sawest  the  flowers  of  youth  decay. 
Half  dried  and  withered  through  excess. 

Till,  nursed  by  virtue's  milder  ray. 
Thy  green  age  grew  to  fruitfulness. 

Thou  sawest  life's  barque  on  troubled  seas 

Long  tossed;  care's  clouds  thy  skies  o'ercast; 

But  calm  content,  with  moderate  breeze. 
Brought  thee  to  wisdom's  port  at  last. 

Life's  evening,  wherein  most  behold 
Their  season  of  regrets  and  fears. 

Became  for  thee  an  age  of  gold. 

And  gave  thee  all  thy  happiest  years. 

As  gentle  airs  and  genial  sun 

Stay  winter's  march  ivheri  leaves  grow  sere. 
And,  when  the  summer's  race  is  run. 

With  a  new  summer  crown  the  year; 

[14] 


INTEODUCTION" 

80  temperance,  like  that  lingering  glow 
Which  maJces  the  October  woods  so  bright. 

Did  on  thy  vale  of  years  bestow 
A  glorious  autumn  of  delight. 

What  useful  lessons  might  our  race 
From  thy  so  sage  experience  draw! 

Earth  might  become  a  joyous  place. 

Would  man  but  reverence  nature's  law. 

Soar  folly,  self,  and  sense  above; 

Govern  each  mutinous  desire; 
Nor  let  the  sacred  flame  of  love 

In  passion  s  hurricane  expire. 

No  wondrous  works  of  hand  or  mind 

Were  thine;  Ood  bade  thee  stand  and  wait, 

A  living  proof  to  all  thy  kind 

That  a  wise  man  may  master  fate. 

Happy  that  life  around  whose  close 
The  virtues  all  their  rainbows  cast. 

While  wisdom  and  the  soul's  repose 
Make  age  more  blest  than  all  the  past! 


THESE*  is  a  story  in  the  ''Arabian  Nights'  Tales" 
of  a  king  who  had  long  languished  under   an 
ill  habit  of  body,  and  had  taken  abundance  of 
remedies  to  no  purpose.      At  length,   says  the  fable, 
a  physician  cured  him  by   the   following   method:   he 
took  a  hollow  ball  of  wood,  and  filled  it  with  several 

*  See  Note  C 

[15] 


THE   AET    OF    LIVING   LONG 

drugs;  after  which  he  closed  it  up  so  artificially  that 
nothing  appeared.  He  likewise  took  a  mall;  and, 
after  having  hollowed  the  handle,  and  that  part  which 
strikes  the  ball,  he  inclosed  in  them  several  drugs 
after  the  same  manner  as  in  the  ball  itself.  He 
then  ordered  the  sultan,  who  was  his  patient,  to  exercise 
himself  early  in  the  morning  with  these  rightly  pre- 
pared instruments,  till  such  time  as  he  should  sweat; 
when,  as  the  story  goes,  the  virtue  of  the  medicaments 
perspiring  through  the  wood,  had  so  good  an  influence 
on  the  sultan's  constitution,  that  they  cured  him  of  an 
indisposition  which  all  the  compositions  he  had  taken 
inwardly  had  not  been  able  to  remove.  This  Eastern 
allegory  is  finely  contrived  to  show  us  how  beneficial 
bodily  labor  is  to  health,  and  that  exercise  is  the  most 
eifectual  physic.  I  have  described  in  my  hundred  and 
fifteenth  paper,  from  the  general  structure  and  mecha- 
nism of  a  human  body,  how  absolutely  necessary  exercise 
is  for  its  preservation;  I  shall  in  this  place  recommend 
another  great  preservative  of  health,  which  in  many 
cases  produces  the  same  effects  as  exercise,  and  may,  in 
some  measure,  supply  its  place,  where  opportunities  of 
exercise  are  wanting.  The  preservative  I  am  speaking 
of  is  temperance ;  which  has  those  particular  advantages 
above  all  other  means  of  health,  that  it  may  be  practiced 
by  all  ranks  and  conditions,  at  any  season  or  in  any  place. 
It  is  a  kind  of  regimen  into  which  every  man  may  put 
himself,   without  interruption   to   business,    expense   of 


[16] 


INTEODTJCTION 

money,  or  loss  of  time.  If  exercise  throws  off  all  super- 
fluities, temperance  prevents  them;  if  exercise  clears  the 
vessels,  temperance  neither  satiates  nor  overstrains 
them;  if  exercise  raises  proper  ferments  in  the  humors, 
and  promotes  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  temperance 
gives  nature  her  full  play,  and  enables  her  to  exert  her- 
self in  all  her  force  and  vigor;  if  exercise  dissipates  a 
growing  distemper,  temperance  starves  it. 

Physic,  for  the  most  part,  is  nothing  else  but  the 
substitute  of  exercise  or  temperance.  Medicines  are 
indeed  absolutely  necessary  in  acute  distempers,  that 
cannot  wait  the  slow  operations  of  these  two  great  instru- 
ments of  health;  but  did  men  live  in  a  habitual  course 
of  exercise  and  temperance,  there  would  be  but  little 
occasion  for  them.  Accordingly,  we  find  that  those  parts 
of  the  world  are  the  most  healthy  where  they  subsist  by 
the  chase;  and  that  men  lived  longest  when  their  lives 
were  employed  in  hunting,  and  when  they  had  little  food 
besides  what  they  caught.  Blistering,  cupping,  bleeding, 
are  seldom  of  use  but  to  the  idle  and  intemperate ;  as  all 
those  inward  applications  which  are  so  much  in  practice 
among  us,  are  for  the  most  part  nothing  else  but  expedi- 
ents to  make  luxury  consistent  with  health.  The  apoth- 
ecary is  perpetually  employed  in  countermining  the 
cook  and  the  vintner.  It  is  said  of  Diogenes,  that,  meet- 
ing a  young  man  who  was  going  to  a  feast,  he  took  him 
up  in  the  street  and  carried  him  home  to  his  friends,  as 
one  who  was  running  into  imminent  danger,  had  not  he 


[17] 


THE   ART    OF    LIVING   LONG 

prevented  him.  What  would  that  philosopher  have 
said,  had  he  been  present  at  the  gluttony  of  a  modern 
meal  ?  Would  not  he  have  thought  the  master  of  a  family 
mad,  and  have  begged  his  servants  to  tie  down  his  hands, 
had  he  seen  him  devour  fowl,  fish,  and  flesh;  swallow 
oil  and  vinegar,  wines  and  spices ;  throw  down  salads  of 
twenty  different  herbs,  sauces  of  a  hundred  ingredients, 
confections  and  fruits  of  numberless  sweets  and  flavors? 
What  unnatural  motions  and  counter-ferments  must  such 
a  medley  of  intemperance  produce  in  the  body  I  For  my 
part,  when  I  behold  a  fashionable  table  set  out  in  all  its 
magnificence,  I  fancy  that  I  see  gouts  and  dropsies, 
fevers  and  lethargies,  with  other  innumerable  distempers, 
lying  in  ambuscade  among  the  dishes. 

Nature  delights  in  the  most  plain  and  simple  diet. 
Every  animal,  but  man,  keeps  to  one  dish.  Herbs  are 
the  food  of  this  species,  fish  of  that,  and  flesh  of  a  third. 
Man  falls  upon  everything  that  comes  in  his  way;  not 
the  smallest  fruit  or  excrescence  of  the  earth,  scarce  a 
berry  or  a  mushroom,  can  escape  him. 

It  is  impossible  to  lay  down  any  determinate  rule 
for  temperance;  because  what  is  luxury  in  one  may  be 
temperance  in  another.  But  there  are  few  that  have 
lived  any  time  in  the  world,  who  are  not  judges  of  their 
own  constitutions,  so  far  as  to  know  what  kinds  and  what 
proportions  of  food  do  best  agree  with  them.  Were  I  to 
consider  my  readers  as  my  patients,  and  to  prescribe 
such  a  kind  of  temperance  as  is  accommodated  to  all  per- 


[18] 


INTRODUCTION 

sons,  and  such  as  is  particularly  suitable  to  our  climate 
and  way  of  living,  I  would  copy  tlie  following  rules  of 
a  very  eminent  physician:  Make  your  whole  repast  out 
of  one  dish;  if  you  indulge  in  a  second,  avoid  drinking 
anything  strong  till  you  have  finished  your  meal;  at  the 
same  time  abstain  from  all  sauces,  or  at  least  such  as  are 
not  the  most  plain  and  simple.  A  man  could  not  be  well 
guilty  of  gluttony,  if  he  stuck  to  these  few  obvious  and 
easy  rules.  In  the  first  case,  there  would  be  no  variety 
of  tastes  to  solicit  his  palate,  and  occasion  excess;  nor, 
in  the  second,  any  artificial  provocatives  to  relieve  satiety, 
and  create  a  false  appetite.  . . .  But,  because  it  is 
impossible  for  one  who  lives  in  the  world  to  diet  himself 
always  in  so  philosophical  a  manner,  I  think  every  man 
should  have  his  days  of  abstinence,  according  as  his  con- 
stitution will  permit.  These  are  great  reliefs  to  nature, 
as  they  qualify  her  for  struggling  with  hunger  and 
thirst,  whenever  any  distemper  or  duty  of  life  may  put 
her  upon  such  difficulties ;  and  at  the  same  time  give  her 
an  opportunity  of  extricating  herself  from  her  oppres- 
sions, and  recovering  the  several  tones  and  springs  of 
her  distended  vessels.  Besides  that,  abstinence  well- 
timed  often  kills  a  sickness  in  embryo,  and  destroys  the 
first  seeds  of  an  indisposition.  It  is  observed  by  two  or 
three  ancient  authors,  that  Socrates,  notwithstanding  he 
lived  in  Athens  during  that  great  plague,  which  has  made 
so  much  noise  through  all  ages,  and  has  been  celebrated 
at  different  times  by  such  eminent  hands;    I    say,    not- 


[19] 


THE   AKT    OF    LIVING   LONG 

withstanding  that  he  lived  in  the  time  of  this  devouring 
pestilence,  he  never  caught  the  least  infection;  which 
those  writers  unanimously  ascribe  to  that  uninterrupted 
temperance  which  he  always  observed. 

And  here  I  cannot  but  mention  an  observation  which 
I  have  often  made,  upon  reading  the  lives  of  the  philoso- 
phers, and  comparing  them  with  any  series  of  kings  or 
great  men  of  the  same  number.  If  we  consider  these 
ancient  sages,  a  great  part  of  whose  philosophy  consisted 
in  a  temperate  and  abstemious  course  of  life,  one  would 
think  the  life  of  a  philosopher  and  the  life  of  a  man  were 
of  two  diiferent  dates.  For  we  find  that  the  generality 
of  these  wise  men  were  nearer  a  hundred  than  sixty 
years  of  age  at  the  time  of  their  respective  deaths.  But 
the  most  remarkable  instance  of  the  efficacy  of  temper- 
ance toward  the  procuring  of  long  life,  is  what  we  meet 
with  in  a  little  book  published  by  Louis  Coenako 
the  Venetian;  which  I  the  rather  mention,  because  it 
is  of  undoubted  credit,  as  the  late  Venetian  ambassador, 
who  was  of  the  same  family,  attested  more  than  once  in 
conversation,  when  he  resided  in  England.  Cornaro, 
who  was  the  author  of  the  little  ''Treatise"  I  am  men- 
tioning, was  of  an  infirm  constitution,  till  about  forty; 
when,  by  obstinately  persisting  in  an  exact  course  of 
temperance,  he  recovered  a  perfect  state  of  health;  inso- 
much that  at  fourscore  he  published  his  book,  which  has 
been  translated  into  English  under  the  title  of  ''A  Sure 
and  Certain  Method  of   Attaining  a  Long  and  Healthy 


[20] 


IlSrTEODUCTIOlSr 

Life."  He  lived  to  give  a  third  or  fourth  edition  of  it; 
and,  after  having  passed  his  hundredth  year,  died  without 
pain  or  agony,  and  like  one  who  falls  asleep.  The 
''Treatise"  I  mention  has  been  taken  notice  of  by  several 
eminent  authors,  and  is  written  with  such  a  spirit  of 
cheerfulness,  religion,  and  good  sense,  as  are  the  natural 
concomitants  of  temperance  and  sobriety.  The  mixture 
of  the  old  man  in  it  is  rather  a  recommendation  than  a 
discredit  to  it.— Joseph  Addison  in  ''The  Spectator/' 
October  13,  1711. 


[21] 


Of  all  tyrants,  custom  is  that  which  to  sustain 
itself  stands  most  in  need  of  the  opinion  which  is  enter- 
tained of  its  power;  its  only  strength  lies  in  that  which 
is  attributed  to  it.  A  single  attempt  to  break  the  yoke 
soon  shows  u^  its  fragility.  But  the  chief  property  of 
custom  is  to  contract  our  ideas,  like  our  movements, 
luithin  the  circle  it  has  traced  for  us.  It  governs  us  by 
the  terror  it  inspires  for  any  new  and  untried  condition. 
It  shows  us  the  walls  of  the  prison  within  which  we  are 
inclosed,  as  the  boundary  of  the  world;  beyond  that,  all 
is  undefined,  confusion,  chaos;  it  almost  seems  as 
though  we  should  not  have  air  to  breathe. 

—F.  P.  O.  Guizot 


FART    I 


"THE   TEMPERATE    LIEE" 


BY 


LOU  15    CORNARO 


Prefaced  by  a  Short  Account  of  His 
Life  and  Writings 


'Tis  in  ourselves  that  we 
are  thus  or  thus.  Our  bodies  are  gardens;  to  the 
which  our  wills  are  gardeners:  so  that  if  we  will  plant 
nettles  or  sow  lettuce^  set  hyssop  and  weed  up  thyme, 
supply  it  with  one  gender  of  herbs  or  distract  it  with 
many,  either  to  have  it  sterile  with  idleness  or  manured 
with  industry,  why,  the  power  and  corrigible  authority 
of  this  lies  in  our  wills.  If  the  balance  of  our  lives 
had  not  one  scale  of  reason  to  poise  another  of  sensuality, 
the  blood  and  baseness  of  out  natures  would  conduct 
us  to  most  preposterous  conclusions:  but  we  have  reason 
to  cool  our  raging  motions,  our  carnal  stings,  our  un- 
bitted  lu^ts. — "Othello." 


A  Short  account  of 
THE    LITE   AND    WRITINGS 


OF 


LOUIS  CORNARO 


TO  LOUIS  CORNAKO 

Feom  the  Italian  of  Hiekonimo  Gualdo  (circa  1560) 

Done    into    English    Veese   by 

John  Goadby  Gregory 


8ir,  ivell  may  Fame  to  you  accord  the  praise 
That,,  spite  of  adverse  stars  and  nature's  strife. 
Solely  by  measured  conduct  of  your  life. 

Healthy  and  happy  you  gained  length  of  days. 

Nor  stops  approval  there,  but  also  weighs 
The  pains  you  spared  not  to  set  others  right. 
Guiding  their  footsteps  by  your  beacon-light 

To  long  and  pleasant  journeying  through  life's  maze. 

Blest  is  your  lot,  who,  with  a  steadfast  mind, 
Beneath  a  load  of  years  which  many  fear. 

Contented  and  felicitous  abide. 


[25] 


THE   AET    OF   LIVING   LONG 

Your  voice  in  song  upraised  robust  and  clear. 
Your  thoughts  with  noble  studies  occupied. 
That  good  is  yours  which  is  for  man  designed. 


II 


"Weary  and  woeful  is  senectitude 

E'en  when  from  penury  and  aches  His  free/' 
Cries  one,  ''for  that  it  brings  debility. 

And  warns  us  of  the  grisly  monarch  rude." 

Yet  he  who  holds  in  rein  his  passions  crude. 
Nor  rends  the  blossoms  from  life's  growing  tree. 
Gathers  in  age  fruits  sweet  and  fair  to  see. 

For  Nature  is  with  purpose  hind  endued. 

If  I,  now  years  come  on,  am  weah  and  ill. 
Not  time,  but  I,  am  cause  of  this  my  woe. 

Too  much  I  heeded  headlong  appetite. 

And  though  to  save  the  wreck  I  bend  my  will, 
'Tis  vain,  I  fear — I  ever  older  grow. 

And  aged  error  is  not  soon  set  right. 


Ill 


In  hermit  caverns,  where  the  desert  glowers. 
The  ancient  Fathers  lived  on  frugal  fare — 
Roots,  cresses,  herbs — avoiding  viands  rare. 

Nor  had  they  palates  less  refined  than  ours. 

From  their  example,  confirmation  flowers 
Of  what  you  tell  me,  and  in  mind  I  bear 
That  feasts  which  folly  spreads  on  tables  fair 

Our  frames  enfeeble  and  reduce  our  powers. 

[26] 


LIFE    OF    CORNAKO 

The  wish  in  man  is  native  to  remain 

Long  with  the  living,  for  to  live  is  sweet. 

His  wish  he  may  by  abstinence  attain. 
Dame  Reason  counsels,  sober  and  discreet. 

This  way  that  solid  privilege  to  gain. 

And  tardy  to  the  realm  of  shades  retreat. 


LOUIS  CORNARO  (ancient  Venetian,  Alvise;  modern 
Italian,  Luigi,  Lodovico,  or  Ludovico), — often  styled 
The  Venetian  Centenarian, — the  author  of  the  famous 
treatise,  "The  Temperate  Life,"  which  forms  the  main  por- 
tion of  this  volume,  was  born  in  the  city  of  Venice  in  the  year 
1464. 

Although  a  direct  descendant  of  the  illustrious  family  of 
Cornaro,  yet,  defrauded  in  some  way  through  the  dishonest 
intrigues  of  some  of  his  relatives, — we  are  but  imperfectly 
acquainted  with  the  circumstances, — he  was  deprived  of  the 
honors  and  privileges  attached  to  his  noble  birth,  and  excluded 
from  all  public  employment  in  the  State.  A  man  of  great 
personal  and  family  pride,  he  felt  very  keenly  the  humilia- 
tion of  this  treatment;  and,  as  a  consequence,  he  withdrew 
from  his  native  place  and  made  the  city  of  Padua  his  home 
for  the  remainder  of  his  life,  save  for  brief  seasons  of  summer 
retirement  to  his  country-seats. 

Yet  that,  which,  at  the  time,  must  have  seemed  to  him  a 
great  misfortune,  proved  eventually  a  blessing;  and  doubt- 
less, during  the  long  course  of  his  remarkable  career,  Cor- 
naro's  philosophic  mind  often  reverted  with  thankfulness  to 
those  very  indignities,  but  for  which,  perhaps,  he  would 
never  have  received  the  chief  incentive  of  his  life ;  for  may 
we  not  believe  it  was  because  of  them  that  he  resolved  to 
found  for  himself  a  more  honorable  name — one  that  should 
rest  upon  a  sounder  and  more  worthy  basis  than  mere  family 
pride.      This  determination,  whatever  may  have  inspired  it. 


[27] 


THE    AET   OF    LIVING   LONG 

proved,  as  we  learn  in  his  narrative,  to  be  the  crisis  of  his 
life,  changing,  as  if  by  magic,  its  entire  course ;  and  it 
resulted  in  the  establishment  of  a  fame,  not  only  great  in  his 
own  day,  but  which  continues  to  increase  as  time  rolls  on. 

In  order  to  accomplish  the  purpose  uppermost  in  his 
mind,  the  first  thing  to  which  he  gave  his  constant  and  most 
intelligent  attention  was  the  securing  of  perfect  health,  which 
heretofore  he  had  never  known,  and  which  he  recognized  as 
the  best  armor  for  the  warfare  of  life;  a  knowledge,  the 
importance  of  which — in  his  day,  as  in  ours — few  fully 
realized.  At  the  details  of  this  glorious  work,  as  well  as  its 
happy  results,  we  shall  here  take  only  a  hasty  glance;  for 
the  picture  he  has  painted  is  by  the  hand  of  a  master,  and 
no  one  but  himself  can  do  it  justice. 

Born  with  a  very  delicate  constitution,  accompanied 
unfortunately  by  a  choleric  disposition,  Cornaro  furthermore 
gave  evidence,  in  early  life,  of  careless  habits  which  finally 
developed  into  those  of  intemperance;  and,  though  destined 
to  leave  behind  him  a  name  imp  irishable,  because  of  virtues 
based  upon  a  complete  subjugation  of  every  passion,  was 
almost  destroyed,  before  he  reached  the  age  of  forty,  by  those 
natural  and  acquired  infirmities,  which,  for  years,  had  made 
his  days  and  nights  an  almost  continual  martyrdom. 

Finally  convinced  that  his  unnatural  habits  would,  if 
persisted  in,  soon  be  the  cause  of  his  death,  and  possessed 
of  that  determined  courage  and  resolution,  wiiich,  on  a  closer 
acquaintance,  we  shall  recognize  and  learn  to  admire  as  his 
chief  trait,  he  changed  his  manner  of  life  so  completely  that, 
in  a  very  brief  time,  his  diseases  disappeared,  giving  place 
to  a  rugged  health  and  serenity  of  mind  hitherto  unknown 
to  him.  In  a  word,  from  a  despairing  and  almost  helpless 
invalid,  unfit  for  either  work  or  enjoyment,  he  became  not 
only  a  man  of  perfect  health,  singularly  active  and  happy, 
but  also  such  an  example  of  complete  self-restraint  as  to  be 
the  wonder  and  admiration  of  all  who  knew  him,  earning  and 
receiving  the  title  of  The  Temperate.  The  mildness  and 
sweetness  of  his  altered  disposition  at  the  same  time  gained 
for  him  the  fullest  respect  and  afifection. 


[28] 


LIFE    OF    COENAKO 

In  the  city  of  Udine,  northern  Italy,  he  married  Veronica 
di  Spilimbergo,*  a  daughter  of  the  noble  house  of  that  name. 

He  very  much  desired  children,  not  only  for  every  natural 
reason,  but  also  in  order  that  his  own  offspring  might  inherit 
the  large  fortune  which  he  possessed.  Though  for  a  long  time 
disappointed  in  this  hope,  he  was  finally  made  very  happy 
by  the  advent  of  a  little  daughter,  born  when  he  and  his  wife 
were  both  well  advanced  in  years ;  to  her  they  gave  the  name 
of  Chiara  (Clara).**  In  due  time  she  was  married  to  one  of 
her  own  name  and  kindred,  Giovanni  (John),  the  son  of 
Fantino  Cornaro,  a  member  of  the  wealthy  and  powerful 
Cornaro  Piscopia  branch  of  the  family.  She  became  the 
mother  of  eight  sons  and  three  daughters,  all  of  whom  the 
grandfather — as  we  learn  from  his  own  words — lived  to  see 
and  enjoy. 

Having  faithfully  observed  that  wise  law  of  Nature, 
moderation,  for  so  many  years,  h  ;  anticipated,  with  a  con- 
fidence which  the  sequel  will  show  was  neither  unfounded 
nor  disappointed,  a  happy  a"d  prosperous  life  of  not  less  than 
a  century;  and  this  span  he  was  equally  certain  he  would 
have  been  able  to  extend  considerably,  had  it  been  his  good 
fortune  to  have  begun  life  with  the  advantages  he  assures  us 
his  teachings  will  confer  on  the  children  of  all  who  lead  the 
temperate  life  it  had  been  his  delight  to  follow. 

To  the  very  close  of  his  wonderful  career  he  retained 
his  accustomed  iiealth  and  vigor,  as  well  as  the  possession, 
in  their  perfection,  of  all  his  faculties.  No  hand  but  his  own 
can  faithfully  give  us  an  account  of  the  recreations  and 
pleasures  of  that  happy  old  age  for  which  he  entreats  all  to 
strive.  But  we  may  sum  it  all  up  in  the  one  brief  line  wherein 
he  assures  us :  "I  never  knew  the  world  was  beautiful  until 
I  reached  old  age."  Of  the  knowledge  that  his  was  an 
instance  without  a  parallel,  he  himself  was  not  ignorant.  In 
this  thought  he  not  only  took  a  pardonable  pride,  but  derived 
one  of  the  greatest  joys  of  his  old  age,  when  he  reflected  that 
while  many  others  before  him  had  written  eulogies  upon  a 
life  of  temperance  and  regularity,  no  one,  at  the  end  of  a  cen- 
tury of  life,  had  ever  taken  pen  in  hand  to  leave  to  the  world 

*  See  Note  D  **  See  Note  C 

[39] 


THE    ART    OF    LIVING   LONG 

the  story  of  a  personal  participation  in  the  many  indescribable 
blessings,  which,  for  so  many  years,  it  had  been  his  lot  to 
enjoy ;  nor  had  any  one,  after  recovering  broken  health,  lived 
to  such  an  age  to  tell  the  world  how  he  had  done  so. 

The  one  thought  uppermost  in  his  heart  was  that  of 
gratitude  for  his  recovery,  and  for  the  countless  blessings  of 
his  long  life.  This  sentiment  he  hoped  would  ever  continue 
to  bear  substantial  fruit;  for  he  lived  and  died  in  the  belief 
that  his  labors  in  writing  a  faithful  account  of  his  experience, 
would  result,  for  all  time,  in  benefiting  those  who  would 
listen  to  him.  He  was  convinced  that  if  he,  who  had  begun 
life  under  so  many  disadvantages,  could  attain  perfect  health 
and  continue  in  it  for  so  many  years,  the  possibilities  of  those 
blessed  with  a  perfect  constitution  and  aided,  from  child- 
hood, with  the  temperate  rule  of  life,  must  indeed  be  almost 
unlimited.  It  will  be  difficult  to  find  anywhere  recorded  an 
instance  wherein  constitutional  defects,  aggravated  by  unwise 
habits  of  life,  threatened  a  more  untimely  death ;  and  if  Cor- 
naro,  with  a  constitution  naturally  weak  and  apparently 
ruined  at  the  age  of  forty,  could  attain  such  results,  who  will 
presume  to  set  a  limit  to  the  possibilities  of  longevity  for  the 
human  family,  after  consecutive  generations  have  faithfully 
observed  Nature's  wise  laws? 

Loaded  with  testimonials  of  the  gratitude  and  rever- 
ence of  many  who  had  profited  by  his  example  and  advice, — 
which  knowledge  of  this  benefit  to  others  was,  as  he  assures 
us,  among  the  sweetest  of  his  many  blessings, — he  passed 
the  evening  of  his  life  honored  by  all,  and  in  the  enjoyment 
of  the  friendship  and  esteem  of  the  most  eminent  of  his 
countrymen.  Having  devoted  his  best  years  to  the  accom- 
plishment of  what  he  firmly  believed  to  be  his  mission  in  this 
world, — a  consecrated  task,  that  of  bringing  home  to  his  fel- 
low-men the  realization  of  the  inevitable  consequences  of 
intemperance, — he  patiently  waited  for  the  end.  When  death 
came,  it  found  him  armed  with  the  resignation  of  the  phi- 
losopher and  a  steadfastly  courageous  faith  in  the  future, 
ready  and  glad  to  resign  his  life.  Peacefully,  as  he  had 
expected  and  foretold,  he  died  at  his  palace  in  Padua,  April 


[30] 


LIFE   OF    COENARO 

26,  1566,  in  the  one  hundred  and  third  year  of  his  age.  (His- 
torians have  not  agreed  as  to  the  year  of  his  birth,  some 
placing  his  age  at  one  hundred  and  four,  others  as  low  as 
ninety-eight.  The  dates  we  have  given  are,  however,  sub- 
stantiated by  the  best  authorities.) 

He  was  buried  on  the  eighth  of  the  following  month, 
without  any  pomp,  according  to  the  directions  left  in  his 
will ;  and  by  his  side  his  faithful  wife,  who  survived  him  and 
lived  to  almost  the  same  age,  in  due  time  was  laid.  Her  end 
was  an  equally  happy  one,  finding  her  in  such  perfect  serenity 
of  soul  and  ease  of  body,  that  those  at  her  bedside  were  not 
aware  that  her  gentle  spirit  had  taken  its  flight. 

The  beautiful  home,  built  by  Cornaro  on  the  Via  Mel- 
chiorre  Cesarotti  in  Padua,  and  the  scene,  for  so  many  years, 
of  the  greatest  domestic  happiness  as  well  as  of  the  most 
generous  hospitality,  is  still  in  existence,  and  has  always  been 
known  by  his  name.  It  consists,  mainly,  of  three  buildings; 
the  palace — which  is  the  principal  one — and  the  casino  are 
both  attributed  to  Cornaro  himself;  while  the  celebrated 
loggia  is  known  as  the  work  of  his  protege  and  friend,  Fal- 
conetto.*  The  three  inclose  a  courtyard,  upon  which  all  face — 
the  palace  on  one  side  near  the  street,  the  loggia  and  casino 
on  other  sides. 

The  best  portrait  extant  of  this  justly  celebrated  man  is 
catalogued  as  No.  83  in  the  famous  gallery  of  the  Pitti  Palace, 
at  Florence.  It  has,  until  recently,  been  considered  one  of 
Titian's  paintings;  but  it  is  now  known  as  the  work  of  Tin- 
toretto, and  is  among  the  masterpieces  of  that  famous  artist. 
The  canvas  measures  44x33  inches,  and  the  photographic 
copy  used  in  this  work  is  declared  by  the  Director  of  the  Pitti 
Gallery  to  be  an  excellent  one.  The  figure,  two-thirds  in 
length,  is  life  size.  Cornaro  is  represented  as  seated  in  an 
armchair,  dressed  in  black,  his  coat  trimmed  with  fur. 
Though  the  picture  portrays  a  man  well  advanced  in  years, 
there  is  a  dignity  of  bearing  and  a  keenness  of  eye  that  indi- 
cate one  still  physically  vigorous  and  mentally  alert. 

In   other   portions   of   this   volume,    some   of   the   many 

*  See  Note  E 

[31] 


THE   ABT   OP   LIVING   LONG 

attainments  of  this  remarkable  man  are  made  manifest;  we 
will  here — with  this  passing  mention  of  his  treatise  on  the 
preservation  of  the  lagoons  ("Trattato  delle  Acque,"  Padua, 
1560) — notice,  very  briefly,  the  writings  for  which  he  is 
chiefly  known. 

At  the  age  of  eighty-three,  after  more  than  forty  years 
of  perfect  health  and  undisturbed  tranquillity  of  spirits,  dur- 
ing which  time  he  had  lived  a  life  that  contrasted  as  much 
with  that  of  his  earlier  days  as  it  did  with  that  which  he  saw 
commonly  lived  by  others  around  him,  he  wrote  the  first  of 
the  four  discourses  which  constitute  his  famous  treatise, 
"The  Temperate  Life."  This  was  followed  by  the  three 
others,  one  written  at  the  age  of  eighty-six,  one  at  ninety-one, 
and  the  last  at  ninety-five;  the  four  completing  a  most 
instructive  life  story — one  with  which  he  earnestly  wished 
all  might  become  familiar,  that  they  might  follow  his  example, 
and  thus  enjoy  the  countless  blessings  which  had  so  filled 
his  own  cup  to  overflowing. 

Centuries  ago,  Pythagoras,  Herodicus,  Hippocrates, 
Iccus,  Celsus,  and  Galen — as  have  some  in  every  age — waged 
a  bitter  warfare  against  unnatural  habits  of  life ;  and  accounts 
of  the  attainment  of  extraordinary  age,  both  in  ancient  and 
modern  times,  are  not  uncommon.  The  autobiography  of 
Cornaro,  however,  who,  after  patient  search,  discovered  in 
his  own  person  the  curative  and  life-sustaining  power  of  the 
temperate  life, — and  that  beyond  the  century  mark, — and 
who,  with  equal  diligence,  labored  to  impress  upon  others 
the  lesson  of  his  own  experience,  affords  an  instance  without 
parallel  in  all  the  annals  of  history. 

In  a  very  brief  way — more  effective,  he  believed,  than 
if  written  at  greater  length — does  this  remarkable  man  hand 
down  to  posterity  his  conviction,  both  from  observation  and 
experience,  of  the  utter  worthlessness  of  the  kind  of  life  too 
often  seen  on  all  sides.  At  the  same  time  he  pictures  the 
reward  to  be  reaped  every  moment,  but  especially  in  old  age, 
from  a  life  spent  in  conformity  with  reason  and  Nature. 

Most  particularly  does  he  emphasize  the  greater  value  of 
the  later  years  of  life  as  compared  with  the  earlier  ones.     By 


[32] 


LIFE    OF    COflNAEO 

the  time  men  have  acquired  knowledge,  judgment,  and  expe- 
rience,— the  necessary  equipment  of  the  fullest  citizenship, — 
they  are  unable,  he  observes,  because  of  physical  degenera- 
tion, consequent  on  irrational  and  unnatural  methods  of  liv- 
ing, to  exercise  these  qualifications.  Such  men  are  then  cut 
off  in  their  prime,  leaving,  at  fifty  or  sixty,  their  life  work 
but  half  completed ;  and  yet,  as  he  protests,  were  they  but  to 
attain  extreme  age  as  followers  of  the  life  he  led,  "How  much 
more  beautiful  would  they  make  the  world !" 

The  first  edition  of  "The  Temperate  Life" — the  work  on 
which  Cornaro's  fame  chiefly  rests — was  published  at  Padua 
in  the  year  1558;  and  few  works  of  such  small  dimension  have 
excited  wider  or  more  fervid  discussion.  For  three  hundred 
years  this  treatise  has  been  a  classic  in  his  native  land.  Trans- 
lated into  Latin,  as  also  into  many  modern  languages,  it  has 
been  popular  wherever  studied.  Slight  as  the  book  is,  it  has, 
.and  will  continue  to  have,  a  permanent  place  in  general  liter- 
ature; though  we  believe  it  may  be  questioned  if  many  in  this 
country,  even  among  the  most  cultured  readers,  have  had  an 
opportunity  of  reading  it. 

To  those  only  imperfectly  acquainted  with  his  story,  Cor- 
naro  is  merely  a  famous  valetudinarian,  who  was  enabled,  by 
temperate  living,  to  pass  the  age  of  a  hundred.  Careful 
readers  of  the  book,  however,  will  always  remember  him  not 
only  as  a  most  charming  autobiographer,  but  also  as  a 
man,  who,  having  successfully  solved  one  of  life's  most  dif- 
ficult problems,  labored  to  encourage  in  others  those  habits 
which  had  proved  so  advantageous  in  his  own  case.  His 
assurance  that,  after  all,  this  world  would  be  a  most  delight- 
ful place  if  people  would  but  live  temperately,  is  the  burden 
of  his  message  to  mankind ;  and  who,  to-day,  is  ready  to 
declare  him  wrong  in  his  assertion  that  man,  by  the  weak 
indulgence  of  his  appetites,  has  always  shortened  his  life  and 
failed  to  reap  the  countless  blessings  within  his  reach? 
Convinced  that  from  this  source  come  most  of  the  ills  that 
flesh  is  heir  to,  Cornaro  writes  with  the  confidence  that  those 
who  listen  to  him  earnestly  will  not  fail  to  heed  his  warning. 
Thus,  also,  will  they  not  only  secure  that  perfect  health  of 


[33] 


THE   ART    OF    LIVING   LONG 

body  and  mind,  without  which  complete  happiness  can  never 
be  reaHzed,  but  will  be  enabled  to  prolong,  in  honorable 
endeavor,  that  enviable  condition  to  the  extreme  limit  intended 
by  Nature.  He  hoped  that  the  faithful  following  of  his 
counsel  would  transform  into  a  universal  hymn  of  joy  the 
strain  of  despairing  weariness, — so  evident  throughout  the 
recorded  thought  of  all  the  centuries, — in  which  men  of  all 
nations  and  ranks  of  life  have  deplored  the  early  loss  of  youth 
and  vigor,  and  lamented  the  resistless  strides  of  premature 
old  age. 

A  simple  diet  was  almost  exclusively  the  nourishment  of 
the  oldest  peoples  of  Syria,  Egypt,  Greece,  and,  in  their  most 
glorious  days,  of  the  Romans ;  and  when  man  shall  once  more 
take  to  heart  this  lesson  of  the  means  of  enjoying  uninter- 
rupted health  and  full  length  of  days, — blessings  which  in 
ages  long  past  were  almost  universally  enjoyed,  and  which 
man  alone,  and  the  animals  under  his  control,  now  fail  to 
possess, — the  world  will  everywhere  be  blessed  with  the 
presence  of  those  who  will  be  considered  in  their  prime  at  an 
age  now  scarcely  believed  attainable.  There  will  then  be  no 
doubt  that  life  is  worth  living;  and,  because  man  will  then 
seek  only  its  true  and  enduring  joys,  those  problems  that  for 
ages  have  distressed  him  will  vanish  of  themselves — problems 
existing  only  because  of  the  craving  of  the  unhealthy  human 
brain  for  those  shadows  of  life  so  long  pictured  as  its  sub- 
stance. 

The  reader  will  have  spent  his  time  in  vain,  however,  if 
he  fails  to  appreciate  fully  the  vital  importance  of  the  fact 
that  Cornaro's  own  regimen,  as  he  most  strongly  insists,  was 
intended  for  himself  alone — that  he  does  not  urge  upon  every- 
one the  extreme  abstinence  practiced  by  himself.  All  persons, 
he  declares,  should  observe  the  temperate  life  prescribed  as 
Nature's  highest  law ;  but,  as  the  temperance  of  one  man  is 
excess  in  his  neighbor,  each  must  discover  the  suitable  quan- 
tity and  quality  of  food  proper  in  his  own  individual  case, 
and  then  live  accordingly.  It  is  the  aim  and  spirit,  not  the 
letter,  of  his  example  that  he  implores  mankind  to  observe. 

While  Cornaro's  personal  dietary  habits  are  not,  indeed, 


[34] 


EXTEACTS  FEOM   TEMPLE 

applicable  in  detail  to  every  individual  constitution,  and  were 
never,  as  we  have  just  said,  intended  by  him  as  such,  yet  his 
general  rules  will  always  be  correct.  These  have  had  in  the 
past,  and  have  to-day,  many  followers;  and  the  number  of 
those  who  faithfully  tread  in  the  pathway  indicated  for  them 
by  the  venerable  writer,  constantly  enjoying,  during  a  long 
and  happy  life,  the  blessings  promised  them,  will  continue  to 
increase,  let  us  hope,  until  it  includes,  in  the  not  remote 
future,  the  vast  majority  of  our  race.  Even  in  an  age  of 
wealth  and  luxury,  such  as  ours,  in  which  opportunities 
rapidly  multiply  for  the  gratification  of  every  sensuous  desire, 
we  need  not  fear  that  those  who  choose  to  be  critics  of  Cor- 
naro  and  the  fundamental  rules  of  his  teachings,  will  con- 
tinue to  find  willing  listeners.  Let  us  hope  that,  in  time,  all 
will  take  to  heart  the  lesson  taught  mankind  by  the  bitter 
experience  of  the  centuries :  that  the  physical,  moral,  intel- 
lectual, and  social  condition  now  so  almost  hopelessly  uni- 
versal, is  but  the  inevitable  result  of  disobedience  of  natural 
law;  and  that  man  has  but  himself  to  blame  when  he  fails 
to  possess  the  greatest  of  earthly  blessings — perfect  health 
of  body  and  mind — and  fullness  of  years  in  which  to  enjoy  it. 


[35] 


Borne,  as  thou  saw'si,  by  violent  strohe  shall  die. 

By  fire,  flood,  famine;  by  intemperance  more 

In  meats  and  drinhs,  which  on  the  Earth  shall  bring 

Diseases  dire,  of  which  a  monstrous  crew 

Before  thee  shall  appear,  that  thou  may'st  know 

What  misery  the  inabstinence  of  Eve 

Shall  bring  on  men. 

If  thou  well  observe 
The  rule  of  "Not  too  much,"  by  temperance  taught 
In  what  thou  eat'st  and  drinh'st,  seeking  from  thence 
Due  nourishment,  not  gluttonous  delight. 
Till  many  years  over  thy  head  return; 
So  mayst  thou  live,  till,  like  ripe  fruit,  thou  drop 
Into  thy  mother's  lap,  or  be  with  ease 
Gathered,  not  harshly  plucked,  for  death  mature. 

— ^'Paradise  Lost" 


"THE   TEMPERATE    LIPE" 


BY 


LOUIS  CORNARO 


TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    ITALIAN    OF    HIS 


LA  YITA   SOBKIA'- 


IN    WHICH    HE    DEMONSTRATES,    BY    HIS    OWN    EXAMPLE, 

n  SURE  AND  CERTAIN  METHOD  OE  TXTTAINING 
n  LONG  7\ND  HETXLTHY  LIEE 


IN    FOUR    DISCOURSES 

Written,  Severally,  at  the  Ages  of  Eighty-three, 
Eighty-six,  Ninety-one,  and  Ninety-five 


Divine  Sobriety,  pleasing  to  God,  the  friend  of 
nature,  the  daughter  of  reason,  the  sister  of  virtue,  the 
companion  of  temperate  living,  .  . .  the  loving  mother 
of  human  life,  the  true  medicine  both  of  the  soul  and 
of  the  body;  how  rnuch  should  men  praise  and  thank 
thee  for  thy  courteous  gifts!  for  thou  givest  them  the 
means  of  preserving  life  in  health,  that  blesshig  than 
which  it  did  not  please  God  we  should  have  a  greater  in 
this  world — life  and  existence,  so  naturally  prized,  so 
willingly  guarded  by  every  living  creature! 

— Louis  Cornaro. 


THE  riRST  DISCOURSE 

Written  at  the  Age  of  Eighty-three 

Wherein  the  author  details  the   method   bv  which  he 
corrected  his  infirm  condition,  strengthened  his 
naturally  weak  constitution,  and  thence- 
forth continued  In  the  enjoyment 
of  perfect  health 


IT  is  certain  that  habit,  in  man,  eventually  becomes 
second  nature,  compelling  him  to  practice  that  to 
which  he  has  become  accustomed,  regardless  of 
whether  such  a  thing  be  beneficial  or  injurious  to  him. 
Moreover,  we  see  in  many  instances — and  no  one  can 
call  this  into  question— that  the  force  of  habit  will 
triumph  even  over  reason.  Indeed,  if  a  man  of  good 
morals  frequents  the  company  of  a  bad  man,  it  very  often 
happens  that  he  will  change  from  good  to  bad.  Yet 
sometimes  the  contrary  is  equally  true;  namely,  that 
while  good  habits  often  change  readily  for  the  worse,  so 
also  do  bad  habits  change  to  good  ones;  since  a  wicked 
man  who  has  once  been  good  may  still,  by  frequenting 
the  society  of  the  good,  return  to  the  better  ways  which  he 


[39] 


THE    AKT    OF    LIVING   LONG 

had  formerly  followed.  All  these  changes  must  be 
attributed  solely  to  the  force  of  habit,  which  is  truly  very 
great. 

It  is  in  consequence  of  this  powerful  force  of  habit, 
that  of  late,  —  indeed  during  my  own  lifetime  and 
memory,  —  three  evil  customs  have  gradually  gained  a 
foothold  in  our  own  Italy.  The  first  of  these  is  adulation 
and  ceremony,  the  second  is  heresy,  and  the  third  is 
intemperance.  These  three  vices,  cruel  monsters  of 
human  life  as  they  truly  are,  have,  in  our  day,  prevailed 
so  universally  as  to  have  impaired  the  sincerity  of  social 
life,  the  religion  of  the  soul,  and  the  health  of  the  body. 

Having  long  reflected  on  this  unfortunate  condition, 
I  have  now  determined  to  treat  of  the  last  of  these  vices— 
intemperance;  and,  in  order  to  accomplish  all  I  can 
toward  abolishing  it,  I  shall  prove  that  it  is  an  abuse. 
With  regard  to  the  two  other  obnoxious  habits,  I  feel 
certain  that,  ere  long,  some  noble  mind  will  undertake 
the  task  of  condemning  them  and  removing  them  from 
among  us.  Thus  do  I  firmly  hope  that  I  shall,  before  I 
leave  this  world,  see  these  three  abuses  conquered  and 
crushed  out  of  Italy,  and,  consequently,  witness  the 
return  of  my  country  to  her  wise  and  beautiful  customs 
of  yore. 

Coming,  then,  to  that  evil  concerning  which  I  pro- 
pose to  speak,— the  vice  of  intemperance,— I  declare  that 
it  is  a  wicked  thing  that  it  should  prevail  to  such  an  extent 
as  to  greatly  lower,  nay,  almost  abolish,  the  temperate 
life.  For  though  it  is  well  known  by  all  that  intemper- 
ance proceeds  from  the  vice  of  gluttony,  and  temperance 
from  the  virtue  of  restraint,  nevertheless  the  former 
is  exalted  as  a  virtuous  thing  and  even  as  a  mark  of 
distinction,  while  temperance  is  stigmatized  and  scorned 
as  dishonorable,  and  as  befitting  the  miserly  alone. 


[40] 


LOUIS    CORNARO'S   TREATISE 

These  false  notions  are  due  entirely  to  the  force  of 
habit,  bred  by  men's  senses  and  uncontrolled  appetites. 
It  is  this  craving  to  gratify  the  appetites  which  has 
allured  and  inebriated  men  to  such  a  degree  that, 
abandoning  the  path  of  virtue,  they  have  taken  to  follow- 
ing the  one  of  vice— a  road  which  leads  them,  though  they 
see  it  not,  to  strange  and  fatal  chronic  infirmities  through 
which  they  grow  prematurely  old.  Before  they  reach  the 
age  of  forty  their  health  has  been  completely  worn  out— 
just  the  reverse  of  what  the  temperate  life  once  did  for 
them.  For  this,  before  it  was  banished  by  the  deadly 
habit  of  intemperance,  invariably  kept  all  its  followers 
strong  and  healthy,  even  to  the  age  of  fourscore  and 
upward. 

0  wretched  and  unhappy  Italy,  canst  thou  not  see 
that  intemperance  kills  every  year  amongst  thy  people  as 
great  a  number  as  would  perish  during  the  time  of  a  most 
dreadful  pestilence,  or  by  the  sword  or  fire  of  many 
bloody  wars !  And  these  truly  immoral  banquets  of  thine, 
now  so  commonly  the  custom, — feasts  so  great  and 
intolerable  that  the  tables  are  never  found  large  enough 
to  accommodate  the  innumerable  dishes  set  upon  them, 
so  that  they  must  be  heaped,  one  upon  another,  almost 
mountain  high,— must  we  not  brand  them  as  so  many 
destructive  battles!  Who  could  ever  live  amid  such 
a  multitude  of  disorders  and  excesses ! 

Oh,  for  the  love  of  God,  I  conjure  you  to  apply  a 
remedy  to  this  unholy  condition!  for  I  am  certain  there 
is  no  vice  more  displeasing  to  His  Divine  Majesty  than 
this  fatal  one  of  intemperance.  Let  this  new  death,  worse 
than  any  pestilence  ever  known,  be  driven  out  of  Italy ;  as 
was  the  case  with  that  other  epidemic,  which,  though  it 
once  caused  so  much  misery,  nowadays  does  but  very 
little  harm,— indeed,   scarcely  any,— thanks  to  the  im- 


[41] 


THE   AET   OF   LIVING   LONG 

proved  state  of  affairs  brought  about  by  good  sanitary 
regulations. 

For  there  is  a  remedy  by  which  we  may  banish  this 
fatal  vice  of  intemperance— an  easy  remedy,  and  one  of 
which  every  man  may  avail  himself  if  he  will ;  that  is,  to 
live  in  accordance  with  the  simplicity  of  Nature,  which 
teaches  us  to  be  satisfied  with  little,  to  follow  the  ways  of 
holy  self-control  and  divine  reason,  and  to  accustom  our- 
selves to  eat  nothing  but  that  which  is  necessary  to 
sustain  life. 

We  should  bear  in  mind  that  anything  more  than  this 
will  surely  be  followed  by  infirmity  and  death;  and  that 
while  intemperance  is  merely  a  gratification  of  the 
palate,— a  pleasure  that  vanishes  in  a  moment,— yet,  for 
a  long  time  afterward,  it  causes  the  body  much  suffering 
and  damage,  and  finally  destroys  it  together  with  the 
soul. 

I  have  seen  many  of  my  dearest  friends  and  associ- 
ates, men  endowed  with  splendid  gifts  of  intellect  and 
noble  qualities  of  heart,  fall,  in  the  prime  of  life,  victims 
of  this  dread  tyrant;  men  who,  were  they  yet  living, 
would  be  ornaments  to  the  world,  while  their  friendship 
and  company  would  add  to  my  enjoyment  in  the  same 
proportion  as  I  was  caused  sorrow  by  their  loss. 

Therefore,  to  prevent  so  great  an  evil  for  the  future, 
I  have  decided  to  point  out,  in  this  brief  treatise,  what  a 
fatal  abuse  is  the  vice  of  intemperance,  and  how  easily  it 
may  be  removed  and  replaced  by  the  temperate  habits  of 
life  which  were  formerly  universal.  And  this  I  under- 
take all  the  more  willingly,  since  I  have  been  pressed 
thereunto  by  a  number  of  young  men  of  the  brightest 
intellect,  who  are  well  aware  that  intemperance  is  a  fatal 
vice ;  for  they  have  seen  their  fathers  die  from  its  effects 
in  the  flower  of  manhood,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  they 


[42] 


LOUIS   COKNAEO  S   TEEATISB 

behold  me  still  hale  and  flourishing  at  my  great  age  of 
eighty-three  years. 

Now,  Nature  does  not  deny  ns  the  power  of  living 
many  years.  Indeed,  old  age,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  is  the 
time  of  life  to  be  most  coveted,  as  it  is  then  that  prudence 
is  best  exercised,  and  the  fruits  of  all  the  other  virtues 
are  enjoyed  with  the  least  opposition;  because,  by  that 
time,  the  passions  are  subdued,  and  man  gives  himself  up 
wholly  to  reason. 

Hence,  being  desirous  that  they  likewise  may  attain 
old  age,  these  young  people  have  besought  me  that  I  may 
be  pleased  to  tell  them  the  means  by  which  I  have  been 
able  to  reach  this  advanced  age.  And  since  I  perceive 
them  full  of  so  honest  a  desire,  and  as  I  heartily  wish  to 
benefit  not  only  them,  but  those  others  also  who  may  wish 
to  read  this  brief  treatise  of  mine,  I  shall  now  set  forth, 
in  writing,  the  cause  which  induced  me  to  abandon  my 
intemperate  habits,  and  to  embrace  the  orderly  and 
temperate  life.  I  shall  likewise  relate  the  manner  in 
which  I  went  about  this  reform,  and  the  good  results  I 
afterward  experienced  through  it;  whence  it  will  be 
clearly  seen  how  easy  a  matter  it  is  to  overcome  the  habit 
of  excess.  And  I  shall  demonstrate,  in  conclusion,  how 
much  that  is  good  and  advantageous  is  to  be  derived  from 
the  temperate  life. 

I  say,  then,  that  the  dire  infirmities  from  which  I 
constantly  suffered,  and  which  had  not  only  invaded  my 
system,  but  had  gained  such  headway  as  to  have  become 
most  serious,  were  the  cause  of  my  renouncing  the  errors 
of  intemperance  to  which  I  had  been  very  much  addicted. 

The  excesses  of  my  past  life,  together  with  my  bad 
constitution,— my  stomach  being  very  cold  and  moist,— 
had  caused  me  to  fall  a  prey  to  various  ailments,  such  as 
pains    in    the    stomach,     frequent    pains    in    the    side. 


[43] 


THE   ART    OF    LIVING   LONG 

symptoms  of  gout,  and,  still  worse,  a  low  fever  that  was 
almost  continuous;  but  I  suffered  especially  from  dis- 
order of  the  stomach,  and  from  an  unquenchable  thirst. 
This  evil— nay,  worse  than  evil— condition  left  me 
nothing  to  hope  for  myself,  except  that  death  should 
terminate  my  troubles  and  the  weariness  of  my  life— a 
life  as  yet  far  removed  from  its  natural  end,  though 
brought  near  to  a  close  by  my  wrong  manner  of  living. 

After  every  known  means  of  cure  had  been  tried, 
without  affording  me  any  relief,  I  was,  between  my 
thirty-fifth  and  fortieth  years,  reduced  to  so  infirm  a 
condition  that  my  physicians  declared  there  was  but  one 
remedy  left  for  my  ills— a  remedy  which  would  surely 
conquer  them,  provided  I  would  make  up  my  mind  to 
apply  it  and  persevere  patiently  in  its  use. 

That  remedy  was  the  temperate  and  orderly  life, 
which,  they  assured  me,  possessed  as  great  strength  and 
efiicacy  for  the  accomplishment  of  good  results,  as  that 
other,  which  was  completely  its  opposite  in  every  way,— 
I  mean  an  intemperate  and  disorderly  life,— possessed 
for  doing  harm.  And  of  the  power  of  these  two  opposite 
manners  of  living  I  should  entertain  no  doubt;  both  by 
reason  of  the  fact  that  my  infirmities  had  been  caused  by 
disorder,— though,  indeed,  I  was  not  yet  reduced  to  such 
extremity  that  I  might  not  be  wholly  freed  from  them  by 
the  temperate  life,  which  counteracts  the  effects  of  an 
intemperate  one,— and  because  it  is  obvious  that  this 
regular  and  orderly  life  preserves  in  health  even 
persons  of  feeble  constitution  and  decrepit  age,  as  long 
as  they  observe  it.  It  is  equally  manifest  that  the  oppo- 
site life,  an  irregular  and  disorderly  one,  has  the  power 
to  ruin,  while  in  the  strength  of  early  manhood,  the  con- 
stitutions of  men  endowed  with  robustness,  and  to  keep 
them  sick  for  a  great  length  of  time.     All  this  is  in 


[44] 


LOUIS    COEIirAKO  S    TEEATISE 

accordance  with  the  natural  law  which  ordains  that 
contrary  ways  of  living  must  necessarily  produce 
contrary  effects.  Art  itself,  imitating  in  this  the  proc- 
esses of  nature,  will  gradually  correct  natural  defects 
and  imperfections— a  principle  we  find  clearly  exempli- 
fied in  agriculture  and  other  similar  things. 

My  physicians  warned  me,  in  conclusion,  that  if  I 
neglected  to  apply  this  remedy,  in  a  short  time  it  would 
be  too  late  to  derive  any  benefit  from  it;  for,  in  a  few 
months,  I  should  certainly  die. 

I,  who  was  very  sad  at  the  thought  of  dying  at  so 
early  an  age  and  yet  was  continually  tormented  by  sick- 
ness, having  heard  these  good  and  plausible  reasons,  grew 
thoroughly  convinced  that  from  order  and  from  disorder 
must  of  necessity  proceed  the  contrary  effects  which  I 
have  mentioned;  and,  fired  with  hope,  I  resolved  that,  in 
order  to  escape  death  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  be 
delivered  from  my  sufferings,  I  would  embrace  the 
orderly  life. 

Having  been  instructed  by  my  physicians  as  to  the 
method  I  was  to  adopt,  I  understood  that  I  was  not  to 
partake  of  any  foods,  either  solid  or  liquid,  save  such  as 
are  prescribed  for  invalids;  and,  of  these,  in  small 
quantities  only.  To  tell  the  truth,  diet  had  been  pre- 
scribed for  me  before;  but  it  had  been  at  a  time,  when, 
preferring  to  live  as  I  pleased  and  being  weary  of  such 
foods,  I  did  not  refrain  from  gratifying  myself  by  eating 
freely  of  all  those  things  which  were  to  my  taste.  And 
being  consumed,  as  it  were,  by  fever,  I  did  not  hesitate  to 
continue  drinking,  and  in  large  quantities,  the  wines 
which  pleased  my  palate.  Of  all  this,  of  course,  after  the 
fashion  of  invalids,  I  never  breathed  a  word  to  my 
physicians. 

After  I  had  once  taken  a  firm  resolution  that  I  would 


[45] 


THE   ART   OF   LIVING  LONG 

henceforth  live  temperately  and  rationally,  and  had 
realized,  as  I  did,  that  to  do  so  was  not  only  an  easy 
matter,  but,  indeed,  the  duty  of  every  man,  I  entered  upon 
my  new  course  so  heartily  that  I  never  afterward 
swerved  from  it,  nor  ever  committed  the  slightest  excess 
in  any  direction.  Within  a  few  days  I  began  to  realize 
that  this  new  life  suited  my  health  excellently;  and,  per- 
severing in  it,  in  less  than  a  year— though  the  fact  may 
seem  incredible  to  some— I  found  myself  entirely  cured 
of  all  my  complaints. 

Now  that  I  was  in  perfect  health,  I  began  to  consider 
seriously  the  power  and  virtue  of  order;  and  I  said  to 
myself  that,  as  it  had  been  able  to  overcome  so  many  and 
such  great  ills  as  mine,  it  would  surely  be  even  more 
efficacious  to  preserve  me  in  health,  to  assist  my  un- 
fortunate constitution,  and  to  strengthen  my  extremely 
weak  stomach. 

Accordingly,  I  began  to  observe  very  diligently 
what  kinds  of  food  agreed  with  me.  I  determined,  in  the 
first  place,  to  experiment  with  those  which  were  most 
agreeable  to  my  palate,  in  order  that  I  might  learn  if  they 
were  suited  to  my  stomach  and  constitution.  The 
proverb,  "Whatever  tastes  good  will  nourish  and 
strengthen, ' '  is  generally  regarded  as  embodying  a  truth, 
and  is  invoked,  as  a  first  principle,  by  those  who  are 
sensually  inclined.  In  it  I  had  hitherto  firmly  believed; 
but  now  I  was  resolved  to  test  the  matter,  and  find  to  what 
extent,  if  any,  it  was  true. 

My  experience,  however,  proved  this  saying  to  be 
false.  For  instance,  dry  and  very  cold  wine  was  agree- 
able to  my  taste ;  as  were  also  melons ;  and,  among  other 
garden  produce,  raw  salads;  also  fish,  pork,  tarts,  vege- 
table soups,  pastries,  and  other  similar  articles.  All  of 
these,  I  say,  suited  my  taste  exactly,  and  yet  I  found  they 


[46] 


LOUIS   CORNAEO'S   TREATISE 

were  hurtful  to  me.  Thus  having,  by  my  own  experience, 
proved  the  proverb  in  question  to  be  erroneous,  I  ever 
after  looked  upon  it  as  such,  and  gave  up  the  use  of  that 
kind  of  food  and  of  that  kind  of  wine,  as  well  as  cold 
drinking.  Instead,  I  chose  only  such  wines  as  agreed 
with  my  stomach,  taking  of  them  only  such  a  quantity  as 
I  knew  it  could  easily  digest;  and  I  observed  the  same 
rule  with  regard  to  my  food,  exercising  care  both  as  to 
the  quantity  and  the  quality.  In  this  manner,  I  ac- 
customed myself  to  the  habit  of  never  fully  satisfying  my 
appetite,  either  with  eating  or  drinking— always  leaving 
the  table  well  able  to  take  more.  In  this  I  acted  accord- 
ing to  the  proverb:  ''Not  to  satiate  one's  self  with  food 
is  the  science  of  health." 

Being  thus  rid,  for  the  reasons  and  in  the  manner 
I  have  given,  of  intemperance  and  disorder,  I  devoted 
myself  entirely  to  the  sober  and  regular  life.  This  had 
such  a  beneficial  effect  upon  me  that,  in  less  than  a  year 
as  I  have  just  said,  I  was  entirely  freed  from  all  the  ills 
which  had  been  so  deeply  rooted  in  my  system  as  to  have 
become  almost  incurable. 

Another  excellent  result  which  this  new  life  effected 
in  me  was  that  I  no  longer  fell  sick  every  year— as  I  had 
always  previously  done  while  following  my  former 
sensual  manner  of  life— of  a  strange  fever,  which  at  times 
had  brought  me  near  to  death 's  door ;  but,  under  my  new 
regimen,  from  this  also  was  I  delivered. 

In  a  word,  I  grew  most  healthy ;  and  I  have  remained 
so  from  that  time  to  this  day,  and  for  no  other  reason 
than  that  of  my  constant  fidelity  to  the  orderly  life.  The 
unbounded  virtue  of  this  is,  that  that  which  I  eat  and 
drink,— always  being  such  as  agrees  with  my  constitution 
and,  in  quantity,  such  as  it  should  be,— after  it  has 
imparted  its  invigorating  elements  to  my  body,  leaves  it 


[47] 


THE   ART    OF    LIVING   LONG 

without  any  difficulty  and  without  ever  generating  within 
it  any  bad  humors.  Whence,  following  this  rule,  as  I 
have  already  said,  I  have  constantly  been,  and  am  now— 
thank  God!— most  healthy. 

It  is  true,  however,  that  besides  these  two  very 
important  rules  which  I  have  always  so  carefully  ob- 
served, relative  to  eating  and  drinking,— namely,  to  take 
only  the  quantity  which  my  stomach  can  easily  digest  and 
only  the  kinds  that  agree  with  it, — I  have  also  been  care- 
ful to  guard  against  great  heat  and  cold,  as  well  as 
extreme  fatigue  or  excesses  of  any  nature;  I  have  never 
allowed  my  accustomed  sleep  and  rest  to  be  interfered 
with ;  I  have  avoided  remaining  for  any  length  of  time  in 
places  poorly  ventilated;  and  have  been  careful  not  to 
expose  myself  too  much  to  the  wind  or  the  sun ;  for  these 
things,  too,  are  great  disorders.  Yet  it  is  not  a  very 
difficult  matter  to  avoid  them;  for,  in  a  being  endowed 
with  reason,  the  desire  of  life  and  health  possesses 
greater  weight  than  the  mere  pleasure  of  doing  things 
which  are  known  to  be  hurtful. 

I  have  also  preserved  myself,  as  far  as  I  have  been 
able,  from  those  other  disorders  from  which  it  is  more 
difficult  to  be  exempt;  I  mean  melancholy,  hatred,  and 
the  other  passions  of  the  soul,  which  all  appear  greatly 
to  affect  the  body.  However,  my  efforts  in  this  direc- 
tion have  not  been  so  successful  as  to  preserve  me  wholly ; 
since,  on  more  than  one  occasion,  I  have  been  subject  to 
either  one  or  the  other  of  these  disturbances,  not  to  say 
all  of  them.  Yet  even  this  fact  has  proved  useful  to 
me ;  for  my  experience  has  convinced  me  that,  in  reality, 
these  disorders  have  not  much  power  over,  nor  can  they 
do  much  harm  to,  the  bodies  of  those  whose  lives  are 
governed  by  the  two  rules  I  have  already  mentioned 
relative  to   eating  and  drinking.      So  I  can  say,   with 


[48] 


LOUIS    COKISrAEO's    TREATISE 

truth,  that  whosoever  observes  these  two  principal  rules 
can  suffer  but  little  from  any  disorder. 

Galen,*  the  famous  physician,  bore  testimony  to  this 
truth  long  before  my  time.  He  asserts  that  all  other 
disorders  caused  him  but  very  little  harm,  because  he 
had  learned  to  guard  against  those  of  excessive  eating 
and  drinking;  and  that,  for  this  reason,  he  was  never 
indisposed  for  more  than  a  day.  That  this  is  indeed 
true  I  can  bear  living  testimony,  corroborated  by  the 
statement  of  everybody  who  knows  me;  for  my  friends, 
well  aware  that  I  have  often  suffered  exposure  to  cold, 
heat,  and  other  similar  disorders,  have  also  seen  me  dis- 
turbed in  mind  on  account  of  various  misfortunes  that 
have  befallen  me  at  different  times.  Nevertheless,  they 
know  that  these  troubles  of  mine  have  harmed  me  but 
little;  but  they  can  testify  to  the  considerable  damage 
which  these  very  things  have  brought  to  others  who  were 
not  followers  of  the  temperate  and  regular  life. 

Among  these  I  may  number  a  brother  of  mine,  and 
several  other  near  relatives ;  who,  trusting  to  their  good 
constitutions,  did  not  follow  the  temperate  life— a  fact 
which  was  the  cause  of  grave  harm  to  them.  Their 
perturbations  of  mind  exercised  great  influence  over 
their  bodies;  and  such  was  the  anxiety  and  melancholy 
with  which  they  were  overwhelmed  when  they  saw  me 
involved  in  certain  highly  important  lawsuits  brought 
against  me  by  men  of  power  and  position,  and  so  great 
was  their  fear  that  I  should  lose,  that  they  were  seized 
with  the  humor  of  melancholy,  of  which  the  bodies  of 
those  who  live  irregularly  are  always  full.  This  humor 
so  embittered  their  lives,  and  grew  upon  them  to  such 
a  degree,  that  it  brought  them  to  the  grave  before  their 
time. 

Yet  I  suffered  nothing  throughout  it  all;  for,  in  me, 

*  See  Note  F 

[49] 


THE   ART    OF    LIVING   LONG 

this  humor  was  not  excessive.  On  the  contrary,  encour- 
aging myself,  I  tried  to  believe  that  God  had  permitted 
those  lawsuits  to  be  brought  against  me  in  order  that  my 
own  strength  and  courage  might  better  be  made  known, 
and  that  I  should  win  them  to  my  own  advantage  and 
honor;  as  in  fact  I  eventually  did,  gaining  a  glorious 
and  profitable  victory.  And  the  very  great  consolation 
of  soul  I  then  experienced  had,  in  its  turn,  no  power  to 
harm  me. 

It  is  thus  clear  that  neither  melancholy  nor  any 
other  disorder  can  seriously  injure  bodies  governed  by 
the  orderly  and  temperate  life.  Nay,  I  shall  go  still 
further,  and  assert  that  even  accidents  have  the  power 
to  do  but  little  harm,  or  cause  but  little  pain,  to  the  fol- 
lowers of  such  a  life. 

The  truth  of  this  statement  I  learned  by  my  own 
experience  at  the  age  of  seventy.  It  happened,  one  day, 
while  driving  at  a  high  rate  of  speed,  I  met  with  an  acci- 
dent. My  carriage  was  overturned,  and  was  dragged 
quite  a  distance  before  the  horses  could  be  stopped. 
Being  unable  to  extricate  myself,  I  was  very  badly  hurt. 
My  head  and  the  rest  of  my  body  were  painfully  bruised, 
while  one  of  my  arms  and  one  of  my  legs  received 
especially  severe  injuries. 

I  was  brought  home,  and  my  family  sent  immedi- 
ately for  the  doctors;  who,  when  they  had  come  and 
found  me  at  my  advanced  age  so  shaken  and  in  so  bad 
a  plight,  could  not  help  giving  their  opinion  that  I  would 
die  within  three  days. 

They  suggested  two  things,  however,  as  their  only 
hopes  for  my  recovery :  one  was  bleeding,  the  other  was 
purging;  in  order,  as  they  said,  to  cleanse  my  system 
and  thus  prevent  the  alteration  of  the  humors,  which 
they  expected  at  any  moment  to  become  so  much  dis- 


[50] 


JOSEPH    ADDISON 
1672—1719 


From  the  painting  by  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller — No.  283,  National  Portrait  Gallery, 

London 

Photograph  copyrighted  by  Walker  and  Cockerell 


LOUIS  COKNAEO  S  TREATISE 

turbed  as  to  produce  high  fever.  I,  nevertheless,  con- 
vinced that  the  regular  life  I  had  led  for  many  years 
had  united,  equalized,  and  disposed  all  my  humors  so 
well  that  they  could  not  possibly  be  subject  to  so  great 
alteration,  refused  either  to  be  bled  or  to  take  any  medi- 
cine. I  merely  had  my  arm  and  leg  straightened,  and 
permitted  my  body  to  be  rubbed  with  certain  oils  which 
were  recommended  by  the  physicians  as  appropriate 
under  the  circumstances.  It  followed  that,  without 
using  any  other  kind  of  remedy  and  without  suffering 
any  further  ill  or  change  for  the  worse,  I  entirely  recov- 
ered—a thing,  which,  while  fulfilling  my  own  expecta- 
tions, seemed  to  my  doctors  nothing  less  than  miraculous. 

The  unavoidable  conclusion  to  be  drawn  from  this 
is,  that  any  man  who  leads  the  regular  and  temperate 
life,  not  swerving  from  it  in  the  least  degree  where  his 
nourishment  is  concerned,  can  be  but  little  affected  by 
other  disorders  or  incidental  mishaps.  Whereas,  on  the 
other  hand,  I  truly  conclude  that  disorderly  habits  of 
living  are  those  which  are  fatal. 

By  a  recent  experience  of  mine— that  is,  as  late  as 
four  years  ago— this  was  proved  to  me  unmistakably. 
Having  been  induced  by  the  advice  of  my  physicians, 
the  admonitions  of  my  friends  and  their  loving  exhorta- 
tions, to  make  a  change  in  my  manner  of  living,  I  found 
this  change — consisting  in  an  increase  in  the  ordinary 
quantity  of  my  food— to  be,  in  reality,  a  disorder  of 
much  greater  importance  than  might  have  been  expected ; 
since  it  brought  on  me  a  most  severe  illness.  As  the 
whole  event  is  appropriate  here,  and  because  the 
knowledge  of  it  may  be  of  advantage  to  others,  I  shall 
now  relate  it  in  all  its  particulars. 

My  dearest  relatives  and  friends,  who  love  and 
cherish  me  devotedly  and  are  inspired  by  warm  and  true 


[53] 


THE   ART   OF   LIVING   LONG 

affection,  observed  how  very  little  I  ate,  and,  in  unison 
with  my  physicians,  told  me  that  the  food  I  took  could 
not  possibly  be  sufficient  to  sustain  a  man  of  an  age  so 
advanced  as  mine.  They  argued  that  I  should  not  only 
preserve,  but  rather  aim  to  increase,  my  strength  and 
vigor.  And  as  this  could  only  be  done  by  means  of 
nourishment,  it  was  absolutely  necessary,  they  said,  that 
I  should  eat  rather  more  abundantly. 

I,  on  the  other  hand,  brought  forward  my  reasons 
to  the  contrary;  namely,  that  nature  is  satisfied  with 
little;  that  my  spare  diet  had  been  found  sufficient  to 
preserve  me  in  health  all  these  many  years;  and  that, 
with  me,  this  abstemious  habit  had  long  since  become 
second  nature.  I  maintained,  furthermore,  that  it  was 
in  harmony  with  reason  that,  as  my  age  increased 
and  my  strength  lessened,  I  should  diminish,  rather  than 
increase,  the  quantity  of  my  food.  This  was  true ;  since 
the  digestive  powers  of  the  stomach  were  also  growing 
weaker  in  the  same  proportion  as  my  vigor  became 
impaired.  Wherefore  I  could  see  no  reason  why  I  should 
increase  my  diet. 

To  strengthen  my  argument,  I  quoted  those  two 
natural  and  obviously  true  proverbs:  the  one,  that 
''Whosoever  wishes  to  eat  much  must  eat  little" — which 
means  simply  that  the  eating  of  little  lengthens  a  man's 
life,  and  by  living  a  long  time  he  is  enabled  to  eat  a 
great  deal;  the  other,  that  ''The  food  from  which  a  man 
abstains,  after  he  has  eaten  heartily,  is  of  more  benefit 
to  him  than  that  which  he  has  eaten." 

However,  neither  of  these  wise  sayings,  nor  any 
other  argument  I  could  offer,  proved  effectual;  for  my 
friends  only  pressed  me  the  harder.  Now,  I  did  not 
like  to  appear  obstinate  or  as  though  I  considered  myself 
more   of   a   doctor   than   the   very   doctors   themselves; 


[54] 


LOUIS    CORNAKO'S    TREATISE 

moreover,  I  especially  wished  to  please  my  family,  who 
desired  it  very  earnestly,  believing,  as  they  did,  that 
such  an  increase  in  my  ordinary  allowance  would  be 
beneficial  to  my  strength.  So  I  at  last  yielded,  and  con- 
sented to  add  to  the  quantity  of  my  food.  This  increase, 
however,  was  by  only  two  ounces  in  weight;  so  that, 
while,  with  bread,  the  yolk  of  an  egg,  a  little  meat,  and 
some  soup,  I  had  formerly  eaten  as  much  as  would  weigh 
in  all  exactly  twelve  ounces,  I  now  went  so  far  as  to 
raise  the  amount  to  fourteen  ounces;  and,  while  I  had 
formerly  drunk  but  fourteen  ounces  of  wine,  I  now  began 
to  take  sixteen  ounces. 

The  disorder  of  this  increase  had,  at  the  end  of  ten 
days,  begun  to  affect  me  so  much,  that,  instead  of  being 
cheerful,  as  I  had  ever  been,  I  became  melancholy  and 
choleric;  everything  annoyed  me;  and  my  mood  was  so 
wayward  that  I  neither  knew  what  to  say  to  others  nor 
what  to  do  with  myself.  At  the  end  of  twelve  days  I 
was  seized  with  a  most  violent  pain  in  the  side,  which 
continued  twenty-two  hours.  This  was  followed  by  a 
terrible  fever,  which  lasted  thirty-five  days  and  as  many 
nights  without  a  moment's  interruption;  although,  to 
tell  the  truth,  it  kept  constantly  diminishing  after  the 
fifteenth  day.  Notwithstanding  such  abatement,  how- 
ever, during  all  that  period  I  was  never  able  to  sleep  for 
even  half  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour;  hence,  everybody 
believed  that  I  would  surely  die.  However,  I  recovered 
—God  be  praised!— solely  by  returning  to  my  former 
rule  of  life;  although  I  was  then  seventy-eight  years  of 
age,  and  it  was  just  in  the  heart  of  the  coldest  season  of 
a  very  cold  year,  and  I  as  frail  in  body  as  could  be. 

I  am  firmly  convinced  that  nothing  rescued  me  from 
death  but  the  orderly  life  which  I  had  observed  for  so 
many  years ;  in  all  of  which  time  no  kind  of  sickness  had 


[55] 


THE   AKT    OP    LIVING   LONG 

ever  visited  me,  unless  I  may  call  by  that  name  some 
slight  indisposition  lasting  a  day  or  two  only.  The 
steady  rule  of  life  I  had  so  long  observed  had  not, 
as  I  have  already  said,  allowed  the  generation  of  any 
evil  or  excessive  humors  in  my  body ;  or,  if  any  had  been 
formed,  it  had  not  permitted  them  to  acquire  strength 
or  to  become  malignant,  as  is  the  case  in  the  bodies  of 
old  persons  who  live  without  restraint.  Consequently, 
as  in  my  system  there  was  none  of  that  chronic  vicious- 
ness  of  humors  which  kills  men,  but  only  that  new  con- 
dition brought  about  by  my  recent  irregularity,  this 
attack  of  illness— although  indeed  very  serious— was  not 
able  to  cause  my  death. 

This,  and  nothing  else,  was  the  means  of  my  recov- 
ery; whence  we  may  judge  how  great  are  the  power  and 
virtue  of  order,  and  how  great  is  the  power  of  disorder— 
the  latter  having  been  able,  in  a  few  days,  to  bring  upon 
me  a  sickness  which  proved  to  be  so  terrible;  whereas 
the  regular  and  temperate  life  had  maintained  me  in  per- 
fect health  during  so  many  years.  And  it  seems  to  me 
most  reasonable  that,  if  the  world  is  maintained  by 
order,  and  if  our  life  is  nothing  else— so  far  as  the  body 
is  concerned— but  the  harmony  and  order  of  the  four 
elements,  it  must  follow  that  only  through  this  same 
order  can  our  life  be  sustained;  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  is  ruined  by  sickness  or  dissolved  by  death, 
according  as  this  order  is  not  observed.  It  is  through 
order  that  the  sciences  are  more  easily  mastered;  it  is 
order  that  gives  the  victory  to  armies;  and,  finally,  it  is 
due  to  order  that  the  stability  of  families,  of  cities,  and 
even  of  governments,  is  maintained. 

Therefore  I  conclude  that  orderly  living  is  the  most 
positive  law  and  foundation  of  a  long  and  healthy  life. 
We  may  say  it  is  the  true  and  only  medicine;  and  who- 


[56] 


LOUIS    COENAEO'S    TEEATISE 

ever  considers  all  this  deliberately  must  declare  it  is 
indeed  so. 

When  a  physician  pays  a  visit  to  a  sick  man,  he  pre- 
scribes this  as  the  very  first  condition  of  recovery,  urging 
him,  above  all  things,  to  live  the  orderly  life.  In  like 
manner,  when  he  bids  good-bye  to  his  patient  upon  his 
recovery,  he  recommends,  as  a  means  of  preserving 
restored  health,  that  he  continue  this  orderly  life.  And 
there  is  no  doubt  that  if  the  one  so  advised  were  to  act 
accordingly,  he  would  avoid  all  sickness  in  the  future; 
because  a  well-regulated  life  removes  the  causes  of 
disease.  Thus,  for  the  remainder  of  his  days,  he  would 
have  no  further  need  either  of  doctors  or  of  medicines. 

Moreover,  by  applying  his  mind  to  this  matter  which 
should  so  deeply  concern  him,  he  would  become  his  own 
physician,  and,  indeed,  the  only  perfect  one  he  could 
have;  for  it  is  true  that  '^A  man  cannot  he  a  perfect 
physician  of  any  one  save  of  himself  alone." 

The  reason  of  this  is  that  any  man  may,  by  dint  of 
experimenting,  acquire  a  perfect  knowledge  of  his  own 
constitution  and  of  its  most  hidden  qualities,  and  find 
out  what  food  and  what  drink,  and  what  quantities  of 
each,  will  agree  with  his  stomach.  It  is  impossible  to  have 
equally  accurate  knowledge  of  these  things  in  another 
person;  since  it  is  only  with  difficulty  that  we  may  dis- 
cover them  in  ourselves.  And  to  learn  them  in  our  own 
cases,  great  attention,  considerable  time,  and  much  study 
are  required.  Nor  must  we  overlook  the  fact  that 
various  experiments  are  absolutely  necessary;  for  there 
is  not  so  great  a  variety  of  features  as  there  is  diversity 
of  temperaments  and  stomachs  among  men. 

Who  would  believe,  for  instance,  that  wine  over  a 
year  old  would  be  hurtful  to  my  stomach,  while  new  wine 
would  be  suitable  to  it?    and  that  pepper,  which  is  com- 


[57] 


THE   AET    OF    LIVING   LONG 

monly  considered  a  heating  spice,  would  not  act  upon 
me  as  such,  but  that  cinnamon  would  warm  and  help  me  ? 
What  physician  could  have  informed  me  of  these  two 
hidden  qualities  of  my  nature;  since  I  myself,  after  a 
long  course  of  observation,  have  barely  been  able  to  note 
and  find  them? 

Therefore,  I  say  again,  from  all  these  reasons  it 
follows  that  it  is  impossible  for  anyone  to  be  a  perfect 
physician  of  another.  Since,  then,  a  man  can  have  no 
better  doctor  than  himself,  and  no  better  medicine  than 
the  temperate  life,  he  should  by  all  means  embrace  that 
life. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say,  however,  that  in  the  knowledge 
and  treatment  of  the  diseases  incurred  by  those  who  do 
not  lead  orderly  lives,  there  is  no  need  of  the  physician, 
or  that  he  should  not  be  valued  highly.  For,  if  a  friend 
brings  comfort  when  he  comes  to  us  in  time  of  sickness, 
—though  his  visit  be  merely  to  manifest  sympathy  in 
our  suffering  and  to  encourage  us  to  hope  for  recovery,— 
how  much  the  more  ought  we  to  appreciate  the  physician 
who  is  a  friend  visiting  us  that  he  may  be  of  service, 
and  who  promises  to  restore  our  health?  Yet,  when  it 
comes  to  a  question  of  preserving  health,  my  opinion  is 
that  we  should  take,  as  our  proper  physician,  the  regular 
and  temperate  life.  For,  as  we  have  seen,  it  is  the  true 
medicine  of  nature  and  best  suited  to  man;  it  keeps  him 
in  health,  even  though  he  be  of  an  unfortunate  constitu- 
tion; it  enables  him  to  retain  his  strength  to  the  age  of 
a  hundred  years  or  more ;  and,  finally,  it  does  not  suffer 
him  to  pass  away  through  sickness  or  by  any  alteration 
of  the  humors,  but  simply  by  the  coming  to  an  end  of 
the  radical  moisture,  which  is  exhausted  at  the  last. 
Learned  men  have  often  asserted  that  similar  effects 
could  be  obtained  by  means  of  drinkable  gold  or  the 


[58] 


LOUIS   CORNAKO'S   TEEATISE 

''elixir  of  life";  yet,  though  they  have  thus  been  sought 
by  many,  who  have  found  them? 

Let  us  be  truthful.  Men  are,  as  a  rule,  very  sensual 
and  intemperate,  and  wish  to  gratify  their  appetites  and 
give  themselves  up  to  the  commission  of  innumerable 
disorders.  When,  seeing  that  they  cannot  escape  suffer- 
ing the  unavoidable  consequence  of  such  intemperance 
as  often  as  they  are  guilty  of  it,  they  say — by  way  of 
excuse— that  it  is  preferable  to  live  ten  years  less  and 
to  enjoy  one's  life.  They  do  not  pause  to  consider 
what  immense  importance  ten  years  more  of  life,  and 
especially  of  healthy  life,  possess  when  we  have  reached 
mature  age,  the  time,  indeed,  at  which  men  appear  to 
the  best  advantage  in  learning  and  virtue — two  things 
which  can  never  reach  their  perfection  except  with  time. 
To  mention  nothing  else  at  present,  I  shall  only  say  that, 
in  literature  and  in  the  sciences,  the  majority  of  the  best 
and  most  celebrated  works  we  possess  were  written 
when  their  authors  had  attained  ripe  age,  and  during 
those  same  ten  latter  years  for  which  some  men,  in  order 
that  they  may  gratify  their  appetites,  say  they  do  not 
care. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  I  have  not  chosen  to  imitate  them ; 
on  the  contrary,  I  have  chosen  to  live  these  ten  years. 
Had  I  not  done  so,  I  should  never  have  written  the 
treatises,  which,  as  I  have  been  alive  and  well,  I  have 
been  able  to  write  during  the  last  ten  years;  and  that 
they  will  prove  useful  I  have  no  doubt. 

Furthermore,  the  aforesaid  followers  of  sensuality 
will  tell  you  that  the  temperate  and  orderly  life  is  an 
impossible  one.  To  which  I  answer:  Galen,  great  as  a 
physician,  led  it,  and  chose  it  as  the  best  medicine.  So, 
likewise,  did  Plato,  Cicero,  Isocrates,  and  many  other 
famous  men  in  times  past;    whose   names,    lest  I  grow 


[59] 


THE   ART   OF    LIVING   LONG 

tedious,  I  shall  forbear  to  mention.  In  our  own  time, 
we  have  seen  Pope  Paul  Farnese  [1468-1549]  and  Car- 
dinal Bembo  [1470-1547]  lead  this  life,  and  for  this 
reason  attain  great  age;  the  same  may  be  said  of  our 
two  Doges,*  Lando  [1462-1545]  and  Donato  [1468-1553]. 
Besides  these,  we  might  mention  many  others  in  humbler 
states  and  conditions,  not  only  in  the  cities,  but  in  the 
country  also;  for  in  every  place  there  are  to  be  found 
those  who  follow  the  temperate  life,  and  always  to  their 
own  considerable  advantage. 

'Seeing,  therefore,  that  it  has  been  practiced  in  the 
past,  and  that  many  are  now  practicing  it,  the  temperate 
life  is  clearly  proved  to  be  one  easily  followed;  and  all 
the  more  so  by  reason  of  the  fact  that  it  does  not  call  for 
any  great  exertion.  Indeed— as  is  stated  by  the  above- 
mentioned  Cicero  and  by  all  who  follow  it— the  only 
difficulty,  if  any  there  be,  consists  in  making  a  beginning. 

Plato,  himself  living  the  temperate  life,  nevertheless 
declares  that  a  man  in  the  service  of  the  State  cannot 
lead  it ;  because  he  is  often  compelled  to  suffer  heat  and 
cold  and  fatigues  of  various  kinds,  as  well  as  other 
hardships,  all  contrary  to  the  temperate  life,  and  in 
themselves  disorders.  Yet,  I  repeat  the  assertion  I  have 
already  made,  that  these  disorders  are  not  of  any  great 
consequence,  and  are  powerless  to  cause  grievous  sick- 
ness or  death,  provided  he  who  is  obliged  to  suffer  them 
leads  an  abstemious  life,  and  is  never  guilty  of  any 
excess  in  eating  or  drinking.  Excess  is  a  thing  which 
any  man,  even  one  who  is  in  the  service  of  the  State, 
can  very  well  avoid,  and  must,  indeed,  necessarily  avoid ; 
since  by  so  doing  he  may  rest  assured,  either  that  he  will 
never  incur  those  ills  into  which  it  would  otherwise  be 
easy  for  him  to  fall  while  committing  disorders  which 
are  brought  upon  him  in  the  discharge  of  his  duties,  or 

*  See  Note  G 

[60] 


LOUIS    CORlsrAKO's    TREATISE 

that  he  will  be  able  the  more  easily  and  quickly  to  free 
himself  of  those  ills,  should  he,  perchance,  be  overtaken 
by  them. 

Here  one  might  object— as  some  actually  do— that  a 
man  accustomed  to  lead  the  temperate  life,  having  always, 
while  in  sound  health,  partaken  of  food  proper  for  sick 
persons,  and  in  small  quantities  only,  has  nothing  left 
to  fall  back  upon  in  time  of  sickness. 

To  this  objection  I  shall  answer,  in  the  first  place, 
that  Nature,  being  desirous  to  preserve  man  as  long  as 
possible,  teaches  him  what  rule  to  follow  in  time  of  ill- 
ness; for  she  immediately  deprives  the  sick  of  their 
appetite  in  order  that  they  may  eat  but  little— for  with 
little,  as  it  has  already  been  said.  Nature  is  content. 
Consequently,  whether  the  sick  man,  up  to  the  time  of 
his  illness,  has  led  the  orderly  or  a  disorderly  life,  it  is 
necessary  that  he  should  then  partake  of  such  food  only 
as  is  suited  to  his  condition,  and,  in  quantity,  less  of  it 
than  he  was  wont  to  take  when  in  health.  Should  he, 
when  ill,  continue  to  eat  the  same  amount  as  when 
in  health,  he  would  surely  die;  while,  were  he  to  eat 
more,  he  would  die  all  the  sooner.  For  his  natural 
powers,  already  oppressed  with  sickness,  would  thereby 
be  burdened  beyond  endurance,  having  had  forced  upon 
them  a  quantity  of  food  greater  than  they  could  support 
under  the  circumstances.  A  reduced  quantity  is,  in  my 
opinion,  all  that  is  required  to  sustain  the  invalid. 

Another  answer  to  this  objection— and  a  better 
one— is,  that  he  who  leads  the  temperate  life  can  never 
fall  sick,  or  at  least  can  do  so  only  rarely;  and  his 
indisposition  lasts  but  a  very  short  while.  For,  by 
living  temperately,  he  removes  all  the  causes  of  illness; 
and,  having  removed  these,  he  thereby  removes  the 
effects.      So  the  man  who  lives  the  orderly  life  should 


[61] 


THE   ART    OF    LIVING   LONG 

have  no  fear  of  sickness;  for  surely  he  has  no  reason 
to  fear  an  effect,  the  cause  of  which  is  under  his  own 
control. 

Now,  since  the  orderly  life  is,  as  we  have  seen,  so 
useful,  so  potent,  so  beautiful,  and  so  holy,  it  should  be 
embraced  and  followed  by  every  rational  being ;  and  this 
all  the  more  from  the  fact  that  it  is  a  life  very  easy  to 
lead,  and  one  that  does  not  conflict  with  the  career  of 
any  condition  of  man. 

No  one  need  feel  obliged  to  confine  himself  to  the 
small  quantity  to  which  I  limit  myself;  nor  to  abstain 
from  fruit,  fish,  and  other  things  which  I  do  not  take. 
For  I  eat  but  little;  and  my  reason  in  doing  so  is  that 
I  find  a  little  sufficient  for  my  small  and  weak  stomach. 
Moreover,  as  fruit,  fish,  and  similar  foods  disagree  with 
me,  I  do  not  use  them.  Persons,  however,  with  whom 
these  do  agree  may— nay,  should— partake  of  them;  for 
to  such  they  are  by  no  means  forbidden.  That  which 
is  forbidden  to  them  and  to  everybody  else,  is  to  partake 
of  food,  even  though  it  be  of  the  kind  suited  to  them,  in 
a  quantity  so  large  that  it  cannot  be  easily  digested;  and 
the  same  is  true  with  regard  to  drink.  But  should  there 
be  a  man  to  whom  no  kind  of  food  is  harmful,  he, 
obviously,  would  not  be  subject  to  the  rule  of  quality, 
but  must  needs  regard  only  that  of  quantity— an  observ- 
ance which  becomes  a  very  easy  matter. 

I  do  not  wish  to  be  told  here  that  among  those  who 
lead  the  most  irregular  lives  there  are  men,  who,  in  spite 
of  this  fact,  reach,  healthy  and  robust,  those  furthest 
limits  of  life  attained  by  the  temperate;  for  this  argu- 
ment is  grounded  upon  a  position  uncertain  and  danger- 
ous, and  upon  a  fact,  moreover,  which  is  of  so  rare 
occurrence  that,  when  it  does  occur,  it  appears  more  a 
miracle  than  a  natural  result.     Hence  it  should  not  per- 


[62] 


LOUIS  CORNAEO  S  TREATISE 

suade  us  to  live  disorderly  lives ;  for  Nature  was  merely 
unwontedly  liberal  to  those  irregular  livers,  and  very 
few  of  us  can,  or  should,  hope  that  she  will  be  as  bounti- 
ful to  us. 

He  who,  trusting  to  his  youth  or  his  strong  constitu- 
tion and  perfect  stomach,  will  not  take  proper  care  of 
himself,  loses  a  great  deal,  and  every  day  is  exposed,  in 
consequence  of  his  intemperate  life,  to  sickness  and  even 
death.  For  this  reason  I  maintain  that  an  old  man  who 
lives  regularly  and  temperately,  even  though  he  be  of 
poor  constitution,  is  more  likely  to  live  than  is  a  young 
man  of  perfect  health  if  addicted  to  disorderly  habits. 

There  is  no  doubt,  of  course,  that  a  man  blessed 
with  a  strong  constitution  will  be  able  to  preserve  him- 
self longer  by  living  the  temperate  life  than  he  who  has 
a  poor  one;  and  it  is  also  true  that  God  and  Nature  can 
cause  men  to  be  brought  into  the  world  with  so  perfect 
constitutions  that  they  will  live  for  many  years  in  health, 
without  observing  this  strict  rule  of  life.  A  case  of 
this  kind  is  that  of  the  Procurator*  Thomas  Contarini 
of  Venice  [1454-1554],  and  another  is  that  of  the  Knight 
Anthony  Capodivacca  of  Padua  [1465?-1555].  But  such 
instances  are  so  rare  that,  it  is  safe  to  say,  there  is  not 
more  than  one  man  in  a  hundred  thousand  of  whom  it 
will  prove  true. 

The  universal  rule  is  that  they  who  wish  not  only 
constantly  to  enjoy  perfect  health  and  to  attain  their 
full  limit  of  life,  but  finally  to  pass  away  without  pain 
or  difficulty  and  of  mere  exhaustion  of  the  radical 
moisture,  must  lead  the  temperate  life;  for  upon  this 
condition,  and  no  other,  will  they  enjoy  the  fruits  of 
such  a  life— fruits  almost  innumerable,  and  each  one  to 
be  infinitely  prized.  For  as  sobriety  keeps  the  humors 
of  the  body  pure  and  mild,  so,  likewise,  does  it  prevent 

*  See  Note  H 

[63] 


THE   AET    OF    LIVING   LONG 

fumes  from  arising  from  the  stomach  to  the  head;  and 
the  brain  of  him  who  lives  in  this  manner  is,  as  a  result, 
constantly  in  a  clear  condition,  permitting  him  to  main- 
tain entire  the  use  of  reason.  Thus,  to  his  own  extreme 
comfort  and  contentment,  is  he  enabled  to  rise  above 
the  low  and  mean  considerations  of  this  world  to  the 
high  and  beautiful  contemplation  of  things  divine.  In 
this  maimer  he  considers,  knows,  and  understands,  as  he 
never  would  have  otherwise  done,  how  great  are  the 
power,  the  wisdom,  and  the  goodness  of  God.  Descend- 
ing thence  to  the  realms  of  Nature,  he  recognizes  in  her 
the  daughter  of  the  same  God;  and  he  sees  and  touches 
that  which  at  any  other  age  of  his  life,  or  with  a  less 
purified  mind,  he  could  never  have  seen  or  touched. 

Then,  indeed,  does  he  fully  realize  the  ugliness  of 
vice,  into  which  those  persons  fall  who  have  not  learned 
to  control  their  passions  or  to  bridle  those  three  importu- 
nate desires  which  seem,  all  three  together,  to  be  born 
with  us  in  order  to  keep  us  forever  troubled  and  dis- 
turbed—the desires  of  carnal  pleasures,  of  honors,  and 
of  worldly  possessions.  These  lusts  appear  to  increase 
with  age  in  those  who  are  not  followers  of  the  temperate 
life;  because,  when  passing  through  the  years  of  earlier 
manhood,  they  did  not  relinquish,  as  they  should  have 
done,  either  sensuality  or  appetite,  to  embrace  in  their 
stead  reason  and  self-control — virtues  which  followers 
of  the  temperate  life  never  abandoned  in  their  years  of 
strength. 

On  the  contrary,  these  more  fortunate  men,  well 
knowing  that  such  passions  and  desires  are  irrational, 
and  having  given  themselves  wholly  to  reason,  were  freed 
both  of  their  tyranny  and  at  the  same  time  of  all  other 
vices,  and  drawn,  instead,  to  virtue  and  good  works. 
By  this  means,  from  the  vicious  men  they  had  once  been, 


[64] 


LOUIS    COKNAEO'S    TREATISE 

they  became  true  and  upright.  At  length,  in  process  of 
time  and  owing  to  extreme  age,  their  dissolution  and 
close  of  life  are  near  at  hand.  Yet,  conscious  that  they 
have,  through  God's  special  grace,  abandoned  the  ways 
of  vice  and  ever  afterward  followed  those  of  virtue, 
and  firmly  hoping,  moreover,  through  the  merits  of 
Jesus  Christ  our  Redeemer,  to  die  in  His  grace,  they 
are  not  saddened  by  the  thought  of  the  approach  of 
death,  which  they  know  to  be  unavoidable. 

This  is  especially  the  case  when,  loaded  with 
honors  and  satiated  with  life,  they  perceive  they  have 
reached  that  age  which  scarcely  any  man— among  the 
many  thousands  born  into  this  world— who  follows  a 
different  mode  of  living,  ever  attains.  And  the  inevi- 
table approach  of  death  grieves  them  so  much  the  less 
in  that  it  does  not  come  suddenly  or  unexpectedly,  with 
a  troublesome  and  bitter  alteration  of  the  humors,  and 
with  sharp  pains  and  cruel  fever;  but  it  comes  most 
quietly  and  mildly.  For,  in  them,  the  end  is  caused 
merely  by  the  failure  of  the  radical  moisture;  which, 
consumed  by  degrees,  finally  becomes  completely 
exhausted,  after  the  manner  of  a  lamp  which  gradually 
fails.  Hence  they  pass  away  peacefully,  and  without  any 
kind  of  sickness,  from  this  earthly  and  mortal  life  to 
the  heavenly  and  eternal  one. 

0  holy  and  truly  happy  Temperate  Life,  most 
worthy  to  be  looked  upon  as  such  by  all  men!  even  as 
the  other,  disorderly  and  so  contrary  to  thee,  is  sinful 
and  wretched — as  those  who  will  but  stop  to  reflect  upon 
the  opposite  effects  of  both  must  clearly  see.  Thy 
lovely  name  alone  should  be  sufficient  to  bring  men  to 
a  knowledge  of  thee;  for  thy  name,  The  Orderly  and 
Temperate  Life,  is  beautiful  to  speak;  while  how 
offensive   are   the   words    disorder    and   intemperance! 


[65] 


THE   ART    OF    LIVING   LONG 

Indeed,  between  the  very  mention  of  these  two  opposites 
lies  the  same  difference  as  between  those  other  two, 
angel  and  devil. 

I  have  so  far  given  the  reasons  for  which  I  aban- 
doned disorder  and  devoted  myself  wholly  to  the  tem- 
perate life;  also  the  manner  in  which  I  went  about  it 
that  I  might  accomplish  my  end;  together  with  the  sub- 
sequent effects  of  this  change ;  and,  finally,  I  have 
attempted  to  describe  the  advantages  and  blessings  which 
the  temperate  life  bestows  on  those  who  follow  it. 

And  now,  since  some  sensual  and  unreasonable  men 
pretend  that  long  life  is  not  a  blessing  or  a  thing  to  be 
desired,  but  that  the  existence  of  a  man  after  he  has 
passed  the  age  of  sixty-five  cannot  any  longer  be  called 
a  living  life,  but  rather  should  be  termed  a  dead  one,  I 
shall  plainly  show  they  are  much  mistaken;  for  I 
have  an  ardent  desire  that  every  man  should  strive  to 
attain  my  age,  in  order  that  he  may  enjoy  what  I  have 
found— and  what  others,  too,  will  find— to  be  the  most 
beautiful  period  of  life. 

For  this  purpose  I  wish  to  speak  here  of  the  pas- 
times and  pleasures  which  I  enjoy  at  this  advanced  sea- 
son of  life.  I  desire,  in  this  manner,  openly  to  bear 
witness  to  all  mankind— and  every  person  who  knows 
me  will  testify  to  the  truth  of  what  I  say— that  the  life 
which  I  am  now  living  is  a  most  vital  one,  and  by  no 
means  a  dead  one ;  and  that  it  is  deemed,  by  many,  a  life 
as  full  of  happiness  as  this  world  can  give. 

Those  who  know  me  well  will  give  this  testimony, 
in  the  first  place,  because  they  see,  and  not  without  the 
greatest  admiration  and  amazement,  how  strong  I  am; 
that  I  am  able  to  mount  my  horse  without  assistance; 
and  with  what  ease  and  agility  I  can  not  only  ascend  a 
flight  of   stairs,   but  also   climb   a  whole  hill   on  foot. 


[66] 


LOUIS  COKNAKO  S  TREATISE 

They  also  see  how  I  am  ever  cheerful,  happy,  and  con- 
tented—free from  all  perturbations  of  the  soul  and  from 
every  vexatious  thought;  instead  of  these,  joy  and  peace 
have  fixed  their  abode  in  my  heart,  and  never  depart 
from  it.  Moreover,  my  friends  know  how  I  spend  my 
time,  and  that  it  is  always  in  such  a  manner  that  life 
does  not  grow  tedious  to  me;  they  see  that  there  is  no 
single  hour  of  it  that  I  am  not  able  to  pass  with  the 
greatest  possible  delight  and  pleasure. 

Frequently  I  have  the  opportunity  to  converse  with 
many  honorable  gentlemen;  among  them,  a  number  who 
are  renowned  for  their  intellect  and  refinement,  and  dis- 
tinguished by  their  literary  attainments,  or  are  of  excel- 
lence in  some  other  way.  When  their  conversation  fails 
me,  I  enjoy  the  time  in  reading  some  good  book.  Hav- 
ing read  as  much  as  I  care  to,  I  write;  endeavoring  in 
this,  as  in  what  other  manner  soever  I  may,  to  be  of 
assistance  to  others,  as  far  as  is  in  my  power. 

All  these  things  I  do  with  the  greatest  ease  and  at 
my  leisure,  at  their  proper  seasons,  in  my  own  residence ; 
which,  besides  being  situated  in  the  most  beautiful  quar- 
ter of  this  noble  and  learned  city  of  Padua,  is,  in  itself, 
really  handsome  and  worthy  of  praise — truly  a  home, 
the  like  of  which  is  no  longer  built  in  our  day.  It  is  so 
arranged  that  in  one  part  of  it  I  am  protected  against 
the  great  heat  of  summer,  and  in  the  other  part  against 
the  extreme  cold  of  winter;  for  I  built  the  house  accord- 
ing to  the  principles  of  architecture,  which  teach  us  how 
that  should  be  done.  In  addition  to  the  mansion,  I 
enjoy  my  various  gardens,  beautified  by  running  streams 
—retreats  wherein  I  always  find  some  pleasant  occupa- 
tion for  my  time. 

I  have,  besides  this,  another  mode  of  recreating 
myself.     Every  year,   in  April  and  May,    as  well  as  in 


[67] 


THE   ART   OF   LIVIl<rG  LONG 

September  and  October,  I  spend  a  few  days  at  a  country- 
seat  of  mine,  situated  in  tbe  most  desirable  part  of  the 
Euganean  Hills.*  It  is  adorned  with  beautiful  gardens 
and  fountains;  and  I  especially  delight  in  its  extremely 
comfortable  and  fine  dwelling.  In  this  spot  I  also  take 
part,  at  times,  in  some  easy  and  pleasant  hunting,  such 
as  is  suited  to  my  age. 

For  as  many  days  again,  I  enjoy  my  villa  in  the 
plain.  It  is  very  beautiful,  both  on  account  of  its  fine 
streets  converging  into  a  large  and  handsome  square,— 
in  the  center  of  which  stands  the  church,  a  structure  well 
befitting  the  place  and  much  honored,— as  also  because 
it  is  divided  by  a  large  and  rapid  branch  of  the  river 
Brenta,  on  either  side  of  which  spread  large  tracts  of 
land,  all  laid  out  in  fertile  and  carefully  cultivated  fields. 
This  district  is  now— God  be  praised!— exceedingly  well 
populated;  for  it  is,  indeed,  a  very  different  place  from 
what  it  was  formerly,  having  once  been  marshy  and  of 
unwholesome  atmosphere— a  home  fit  rather  for  snakes 
than  for  human  beings.  But,  after  I  had  drained  off 
the  waters,  the  air  became  healthful  and  people  flocked 
thither  from  every  direction;  the  number  of  the  inhabit- 
ants began  to  multiply  exceedingly ;  and  the  country  was 
brought  to  the  perfect  condition  in  which  it  is  to-day. 
Hence  I  can  say,  with  truth,  that  in  this  place  I  have 
given  to  God  an  altar,  a  temple,  and  souls  to  adore 
Him.  All  these  are  things  which  afford  me  infinite 
pleasure,  solace,  and  contentment  every  time  I  return 
thither  to  see  and  enjoy  them. 

At  those  same  times  every  year,  I  go,  as  well,  to 
revisit  some  of  the  neighboring  cities,  in  order  that  I 
may  enjoy  the  society  of  those  of  my  friends  whom  I 
find  there;  for  I  derive  great  pleasure  from  conversing 
with  them.     I  meet,  in  their  company,  men  distinguished 

*  See  Note  I 

[68] 


LOUIS    COKNAKO'S    TREATISE 

for  their  intellect— architects,  painters,  sculptors,  musi- 
cians, and  agriculturists;  for  our  times  have  certainly 
produced  a  considerable  number  of  these.  I  behold,  for 
the  first  time,  their  more  recent  works,  and  see  again 
their  former  ones;  and  I  always  learn  things  which  it 
is  agreeable  and  pleasing  to  me  to  know,  I  see  the 
palaces,  the  gardens,  the  antiquities,  and,  together  with 
these,  the  squares,  the  churches,  and  the  fortresses;  for 
I  endeavor  to  omit  nothing  from  which  I  can  derive 
either  delight  or  information. 

My  greatest  enjoyment,  in  the  course  of  my  journeys 
going  and  returning,  is  the  contemplation  of  the  beauty 
of  the  country  and  of  the  places  through  which  I  travel. 
Some  of  these  are  in  the  plains ;  others  on  the  hills,  near 
rivers  or  fountains;  and  all  are  made  still  more  beauti- 
ful by  the  presence  of  many  charming  dwellings  sur- 
rounded by  delightful  gardens. 

Nor  are  these  my  diversions  and  pleasures  rendered 
less  sweet  and  less  precious  through  the  failing  of  my 
sight  or  my  hearing,  or  because  any  one  of  my  senses  is 
not  perfect;  for  they  are  all— thank  God!— most  perfect. 
This  is  true  especially  of  my  sense  of  taste;  for  I  now 
find  more  true  relish  in  the  simple  food  I  eat,  whereso- 
ever I  may  chance  to  be,  than  I  formerly  found  in  the 
most  delicate  dishes  at  the  time  of  my  intemperate  life. 
Neither  does  the  change  of  bed  affect  me  in  the  slightest 
degree;  for  I  always  sleep  soundly  and  quietly  in  what 
place  soever  I  may  happen  to  be— nothing  disturbs  me, 
so  that  my  dreams  are  always  happy  and  pleasant. 

With  the  greatest  delight  and  satisfaction,  also,  do 
I  behold  the  success  of  an  undertaking  highly  important 
to  our  State;  namely,  the  fitting  for  cultivation  of  its 
waste  tracts  of  country,  numerous  as  they  were.  This 
improvement  was  commenced  at  my  suggestion;    yet  I 


[69] 


THE   AET   OF   LIVING   LONG 

had  scarcely  ventured  to  hope  that  I  should  live  to  see 
it,  knowing,  as  I  do,  that  republics  are  slow  to  begin 
enterprises  of  great  importance.  Nevertheless,  I  have 
lived  to  see  it.  And  I  was  myself  present  with  the 
members  of  the  committee  appointed  to  superintend  the 
work,  for  two  whole  months,  at  the  season  of  the  greatest 
heat  of  summer,  in  those  swampy  places;  nor  was  I 
ever  disturbed  either  by  fatigue  or  by  any  hardship 
I  was  obliged  to  incur.  So  great  is  the  power  of  the 
orderly  life  which  accompanies  me  wheresoever  I 
may  go! 

Furthermore,  I  cherish  a  firm  hope  that  I  shall  live 
to  witness  not  only  the  beginning,  but  also  the  comple- 
tion, of  another  enterprise,  the  success  of  which  is  no 
less  important  to  our  beloved  Venice;  namely,  the  pro- 
tection of  our  estuary,  or  lagoon,  that  strongest  and 
most  wonderful  bulwark  of  my  dear  country.  The  pres- 
ervation of  this— and  be  it  said  not  through  self-com- 
placency, but  wholly  and  purely  for  truth's  sake— has 
been  advised  by  me  repeatedly,  both  by  word  of  mouth 
and  by  carefully  written  reports  to  our  Republic;  for  as 
I  owe  to  her,  by  right,  the  fullest  means  of  assistance  and 
benefit  that  I  can  give,  so  also  do  I  most  fondly  desire  to 
see  her  enjoy  prolonged  and  enduring  happiness,  and  to 
know  that  her  security  is  assured. 

These  are  the  true  and  important  recreations,  these 
the  comforts  and  pastimes,  of  my  old  age,  which  is  much 
more  to  be  prized  than  the  old  age  or  even  the  youth  of 
other  men;  since  it  is  free,  by  the  grace  of  God,  from  all 
the  perturbations  of  the  soul  and  the  infirmities  of  the 
body,  and  is  not  subject  to  any  of  those  troubles  which 
woefully  torment  so  many  young  men  and  so  many 
languid  and  utterly  worn-out  old  men. 

If  to  great  and  momentous  things  it  be  proper  to 


[70] 


LOUIS    CORKAEO  S    TREATISE 

compare  lesser  ones,  or  rather  those,  I  should  say,  which 
are  by  many  considered  as  hardly  worthy  of  notice,  I 
shall  mention,  as  another  fruit  which  I  have  gathered 
from  the  temperate  life,  that  at  my  present  age  of  eighty- 
three  I  have  been  able  to  compose  a  delightful  comedy, 
full  of  innocent  mirth  and  pleasant  sayings— a  manner  of 
poem,  which,  as  we  all  know,  is  usually  the  fruit  and 
production  of  youth  only,  just  as  tragedy  is  the  work  of 
old  age;  the  former,  because  of  its  grace  and  joyousness, 
is  more  in  harmony  with  the  early  years  of  life,  while  the 
melancholy  character  of  the  latter  is  better  suited  to  old 
age.  Now,  if  that  good  old  man,  a  Greek  and  a  poet 
[Sophocles], was  so  highly  commended  for  having  written 
a  tragedy  at  the  age  of  seventy-three,  and  was,  by  reason 
of  this  deed,  regarded  as  vigorous  and  sound  minded,— 
although  tragedy,  as  I  have  just  said,  is  a  sad  and 
melancholy  form  of  poetry, — why  should  I  be  deemed 
less  fortunate  or  less  hale  than  he,  when  I  have,  at  an  age 
greater  than  his  by  ten  years,  written  a  comedy,  which,  as 
everybody  knows,  is  a  cheerful  and  witty  kind  of  com- 
position? Assuredly,  if  I  am  not  an  unfair  judge  of  my- 
self, I  must  believe  that  I  am  now  more  vigorous  and 
more  cheerful  than  was  that  poet  when  burdened  with  ten 
years  less  of  life. 

In  order  that  nothing  be  wanting  to  the  fullness  of 
my  consolation,  to  render  my  great  age  less  irksome,  or  to 
increase  my  happiness,  I  am  given  the  additional  comfort 
of  a  species  of  immortality  in  the  succession  of  my 
descendants.  For,  as  often  as  I  return  home,  I  find 
awaiting  me  not  one  or  two,  but  eleven,  grandchildren,  all 
the  offspring  of  one  father  and  mother,  and  all  blessed 
with  perfect  health;  the  eldest  is  eighteen  years  of  age, 
the  youngest,  two;  and,  as  far  as  can  now  be  judged,  all 
are  fond  of  study  and  inclined  to  good  habits.    Among 


[71] 


THE   ART    OP    LIVING   LONG 

the  younger  ones,  I  always  enjoy  some  one  as  my  little 
jester;  for,  truly,  between  the  ages  of  three  and  five,  the 
little  folks  are  natural  merrymakers.  The  older  children 
I  look  upon  as,  in  a  certain  way,  my  companions ;  and,  as 
Nature  has  blessed  them  with  perfect  voices,  I  am 
delighted  with  their  singing,  and  with  their  playing  on 
various  instruments.  Indeed,  I  often  join  in  their 
singing;  for  my  voice  is  now  better,  clearer,  and  more 
sonorous  than  it  ever  was  before. 

Such,  then,  are  the  pastimes  of  my  old  age ;  and  from 
these  it  may  readily  be  seen  that  the  life  I  am  leading  is 
alive  and  not  dead,  as  those  persons  say  who  are  ignorant 
of  what  they  are  speaking.  To  whom,  in  order  that  I  may 
make  it  clearly  understood  how  I  regard  other  people's 
manner  of  living,  I  truly  declare  that  I  would  not  be 
willing  to  exchange  either  my  life  or  my  great  age  with 
that  of  any  young  man,  though  he  be  of  excellent 
constitution,  who  leads  a  sensual  life ;  for  I  well  know  that 
such  a  one  is,  as  I  have  already  stated,  exposed  every 
day— nay,  every  hour— to  a  thousand  kinds  of  infirmity 
and  death. 

This  is  a  fact  so  obviously  clear  that  it  has  no  need  of 
proof ;  for  I  remember  right  well  what  I  used  to  do  when 
I  was  like  them.  I  know  how  very  thoughtless  that  age 
is  wont  to  be,  and  how  young  men,  incited  by  their  inward 
fire,  are  inclined  to  be  daring  and  confident  of  themselves 
in  their  actions,  and  how  hopeful  they  are  in  every 
circumstance ;  as  much  on  account  of  the  little  experience 
they  have  of  things  past,  as  because  of  the  certainty  they 
feel  of  living  long  in  the  future.  Thus  it  is  that  they 
boldly  expose  themselves  to  every  kind  of  peril.  Putting 
aside  reason,  and  giving  up  the  ruling  of  themselves  to 
sensuality,  they  seek  with  eagerness  for  means  by  which 
to  gratify  every  one  of  their  appetites,  without  perceiving 
—unfortunate  wretches!— that  they  are  bringing  upon 


[72] 


LOUIS    CORNAKO'S    TEEATISE 

themselves  the  very  things  which  are  niost  unwelcome: 
not  only  sickness,  as  I  have  said  many  times,  but  also 
death. 

Of  these  evils,  sickness  is  grievous  and  troublesome 
to  suffer;  and  the  other,  which  is  death,  is  altogether 
unbearable  and  frightful— certainly  to  any  man  who  has 
given  himself  up  a  prey  to  sensuality,  and  especially  to 
young  people,  to  whom  it  seems  that  they  lose  too  much  in 
dying  before  their  time.  And  it  is  indeed  frightful  to 
those  who  reflect  upon  the  errors  with  which  this  mortal 
life  of  ours  is  filled,  and  upon  the  vengeance  which  the 
justice  of  God  is  liable  to  take  in  the  eternal  punishment 
of  the  wicked. 

I,  on  the  contrary,  old  as  I  am,  find  myself —thanks 
always  to  Almighty  God!— entirely  free  of  both  the  one 
and  the  other  of  these  two  cares:  of  the  one,  sickness, 
because  I  know  to  a  certainty  I  cannot  ever  fall  sick,  the 
holy  medicine  of  the  temperate  life  having  removed  from 
me  forever  all  the  causes  of  illness ;  and  of  the  other, 
namely,  of  death,  because  I  have  learned,  through  a 
practice  of  many  years,  to  give  full  play  to  reason. 
Wherefore  I  not  only  deem  it  wrong  to  fear  that  which 
cannot  be  avoided,  but  I  also  firmly  hope  that,  when  the 
hour  of  my  passing  away  is  come,  I  shall  feel  the 
consoling  power  of  the  grace  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Moreover,  although  I  am  fully  aware  that  I,  like 
everybody  else,  must  come  to  that  end  which  is  inevi- 
table, yet  it  is  still  so  far  away  that  I  cannot  discern  it. 
For  I  am  certain  there  is  no  death  in  store  for  me 
save  that  of  mere  dissolution ;  since  the  regular  method  of 
my  life  has  closed  all  other  avenues  to  the  approach  of 
death,  and  has  prevented  the  humors  of  my  body  from 
waging  against  me  any  other  war  than  that  arising  from 
the  elements  of  which  my  body  was  originally  formed. 


[73] 


THE   ART   OF   LIVING  LONG 

I  am  not  so  unwise  as  not  to  know  that,  having  been 
born,  I  must  die.  Yet  beautiful  and  desirable,  indeed,  is 
that  death  which  Nature  provides  for  us  by  way  of  the 
dissolution  of  the  elements;  both  because  she  herself, 
having  formed  the  bond  of  life,  finds  more  easily  the  way 
to  loose  it,  and  also  because  she  delays  the  end  longer 
than  would  the  violence  of  disease.  Such  is  the  death, 
which,  without  playing  the  poet,  alone  deserves  the  name 
of  death,  as  arising  from  Nature's  laws.  It  cannot  be 
otherwise ;  for  it  comes  only  after  a  very  long  span  of  life, 
and  then  solely  as  the  result  of  extreme  weakness.  Little 
by  little,  very  slowly,  men  are  reduced  to  such  a  state  that 
they  find  themselves  no  longer  able  to  walk,  and  scarcely 
to  reason;  moreover,  they  become  blind,  deaf,  and  bent, 
and  afflicted  with  every  other  kind  of  infirmity.  But,  so 
far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  feel  certain  that  not  only  will  my 
end,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  be  very  different,  but  also  that 
my  soul,  which  has  so  agreeable  a  habitation  in  my  body, 
— where  it  finds  nothing  but  peace,  love,  and  harmony,  not 
only  between  the  humors,  but  also  between  the  senses  and 
reason,— rejoices  and  abides  in  it  in  a  state  of  such  com- 
plete contentment,  that  it  is  only  reasonable  to  believe  it 
will  require  much  time  and  the  weight  of  many  years  to 
force  it  to  leave.  Wherefore  I  may  fairly  conclude 
there  is  yet  in  store  for  me  a  long  continuance  of  perfect 
health  and  strength,  wherein  I  may  enjoy  this  beautiful 
world,  which  is  indeed  beautiful  to  those  who  know  how 
to  make  it  so  for  themselves,  as  I  have  done.  And  I 
treasure  the  hope  that,  through  the  grace  of  God,  I  shall 
also  be  able  to  enjoy  the  other  world  beyond.  All  this  is 
solely  by  means  of  virtue,  and  of  the  holy  life  of  order 
which  I  adopted  when  I  became  the  friend  of  reason  and 
the  enemy  of  sensuality  and  appetite— an  adoption  which 
may  easily  be  made  by  any  man  who  wishes  to  live  as 
becomes  a  man. 


[74] 


LOUIS    COENAKO'S    TEEATISE 

Now,  if  the  temperate  life  is  such  a  happy  one,  if  its 
name  is  so  beautiful  and  lovable,  if  the  possession  of  it 
is  so  certain  and  so  secure,  there  is  nothing  left  for  me  to 
do  except  to  entreat— since  by  oratorical  persuasion  I 
cannot  attain  my  desire— every  man  endowed  with  gentle 
soul  and  gifted  with  rational  faculties,  to  embrace  this  the 
richest  treasure  of  life ;  for  as  it  surpasses  all  the  other 
riches  and  treasures  of  this  world  by  giving  us  a  long  and 
healthy  life,  so  it  deserves  to  be  loved,  sought  after,  and 
preserved  always  by  all. 

Divine  Sobriety,  pleasing  to  God,  the  friend  of 
nature,  the  daughter  of  reason,  the  sister  of  virtue,  the 
companion  of  temperate  living;  modest,  agreeable, 
contented  with  little,  orderly  and  refined  in  all  her 
operations !  From  her,  as  from  a  root,  spring  life,  health, 
cheerfulness,  industry,  studiousness,  and  all  those  actions 
which  are  worthy  of  a  true  and  noble  soul.  All  laws,  both 
divine  and  human,  favor  her.  Prom  her  presence  flee — 
as  so  many  clouds  from  the  sunshine— reveling,  dis- 
orders, gluttony,  excessive  humors,  indispositions,  fevers, 
pains,  and  the  dangers  of  death.  Her  beauty  attracts 
every  noble  mind.  Her  security  promises  to  all  her  fol- 
lowers a  graceful  and  enduring  life.  Her  happiness 
invites  each  one,  with  but  little  trouble,  to  the  acquisition 
of  her  victories.  And,  finally,  she  pledges  herself  to  be  a 
kind  and  benevolent  guardian  of  the  life  of  every  human 
being— of  the  rich  as  well  as  of  the  poor;  of  man  as  of 
woman;  of  the  old  as  of  the  young.  To  the  rich  she 
teaches  modesty,  to  the  poor  thrift ;  to  man  continence,  to 
woman  chastity;  to  the  old  how  to  guard  against  death, 
and  to  the  young  how  to  hope  more  firmly  and  more 
securely  for  length  of  days.  Sobriety  purifies  the  senses ; 
lightens  the  body ;  quickens  the  intellect ;  cheers  the  mind ; 
makes   the   memory   tenacious,   the   motions    swift,   the 


[^5] 


THE   AKT    OF    LIVING   LONG 

actions  ready  and  prompt.  Through  her,  the  soul,  almost 
delivered  of  its  earthly  burden,  enjoys  to  a  great  extent 
its  liberty;  the  vital  spirits  move  softly  in  the  arteries; 
the  blood  courses  through  the  veins ;  the  heat  of  the  body, 
always  mild  and  temperate,  produces  mild  and  temperate 
effects ;  and,  finally,  all  our  faculties  preserve,  with  most 
beautiful  order,  a  joyous  and  pleasing  harmony. 

0  most  holy  and  most  innocent  Sobriety,  the  sole 
refreshment  of  nature,  the  loving  mother  of  human  life, 
the  true  medicine  both  of  the  soul  and  of  the  body;  how 
much  should  men  praise  and  thank  thee  for  thy  courteous 
gifts !  Thou  givest  them  the  means  of  preserving  life  in 
health,  that  blessing  than  which  it  did  not  please  Grod  we 
should  have  a  greater  in  this  world— life  and  existence,  so 
naturally  prized,  so  willingly  guarded  by  every  living 
creature! 

As  it  is  not  my  intention  to  make,  at  this  time,  a 
panegyric  on  this  rare  and  excellent  virtue,  and  in  order 
that  I  may  be  moderate,  even  in  its  regard,  I  shall  bring 
this  treatise  to  a  close ;  not  that  infinitely  more  might  not 
yet  be  said  in  its  behalf  than  I  have  said  already,  but 
because  it  is  my  wish  to  postpone  the  remainder  of  its 
praises  to  another  occasion. 


[76] 


THE  SECOND  DISCOURSE 

Written  at  the  Age  of  Eighty-six 

Wherein  trie  author  further  dwells  upon  the  vital  neces- 
sity of  ten^perate  and  regular  habits  of  life  as 
the  onlv  means  of  securing  or 
preserving  perfect  health 


nY  treatise,  ' '  The  Temperate  Life, ' '  lias  begun,  as  I 
desired  it  should,  to  render  great  service  to  many 
of  those  persons  born  with  weak  constitutions, 
who,  for  this  reason,  feel  so  very  sick  whenever  they 
commit  the  slightest  excess,  that  they  could  not  possibly 
feel  worse— a  thing,  which,  it  must  be  allowed,  does  not 
happen  to  those  who  are  born  with  robust  constitutions. 
A  number  of  these  delicate  persons,  having  read  the 
above-mentioned  treatise,  have  commenced  to  follow  the 
regular  mode  of  life  therein  recommended  by  me,  con- 
vinced by  experience  of  its  beneficial  influence. 

And  now,  in  like  manner,  I  desire  to  benefit  those 
fortunately  born  with  strong  coiistitutions,  who,  relying 
too  much  upon  that  fact,  lead  irregular  lives;  in  conse- 


[77] 


THE   AET    OF    LIVING   LONG 

quence  of  which,  by  the  time  they  reach  the  age  of  sixty 
or  thereabout,  they  become  afflicted  with  various  distress- 
ing ills.  Some  suffer  with  the  gout,  some  with  pains  in  the 
side,  and  others  with  pains  in  the  stomach  or  with  other 
complaints;  yet  with  none  of  these  would  they  ever  be 
troubled  were  they  to  lead  the  temperate  life.  And,  as 
they  now  die  of  these  infirmities  before  reaching  their 
eightieth  year,  they  would,  in  the  contrary  case,  live  to 
the  age  of  one  hundred,  the  term  of  life  granted  by  God, 
and  by  our  mother  Nature,  to  us  her  children;  for  it 
is  but  reasonable  to  believe  the  wish  of  this  excellent 
mother  is  that  every  one  of  us  should  attain  that  natural 
limit,  in  order  to  enjoy  the  blessings  of  every  period  of 
life. 

Our  birth  is  subject  to  the  revolutions  of  the  heavens, 
which  have  great  power  over  it,  especially  with  regard  to 
the  formation  of  good  and  bad  constitutions.  This  is  a 
condition  which  Nature  cannot  alter ;  for,  if  she  could,  she 
would  provide  that  all  be  born  with  robust  constitutions. 
She  hopes,  however,  that  man,  being  gifted  with  intellect 
and  reason,  will  himself  supply  by  art  that  which  the 
heavens  have  denied  him;  and  that,  by  means  of  the 
temperate  life,  he  may  succeed  in  freeing  himself  of  his 
bad  constitution,  and  be  enabled  to  enjoy  a  long  life  in 
the  possession  of  unvarying  perfect  health.  And  there 
is  no  doubt  that  man  can,  by  means  of  art,  free  himself 
partially  from  the  control  of  the  heavens,  the  common 
opinion  being  that,  while  they  influence,  they  do  not 
compel  us.  Hence  have  we  that  saying  of  the  learned: 
'^The  wise  man  has  power  over  the  stars.'' 

I  was  born  with  a  very  choleric  disposition,  insomuch 
that  it  was  impossible  for  any  person  to  deal  with  me. 
But  I  recognized  the  fact,  and  reflected  that  a  wrathful 
man  is  no  less  than  insane  at  times ;  that  is  to  say,  when 


[78] 


LOUIS   COENAEO'S   TEEATISE 

he  is  under  the  sway  of  his  furious  passions,  he  is  devoid 
of  both  intellect  and  reason.  I  resolved,  through  the 
exercise  of  reason,  to  rid  myself  of  my  passionate 
temper;  and  I  succeeded  so  well  that  now— though,  as  I 
have  said,  I  am  naturally  inclined  to  anger— I  never  allow 
myself  to  give  way  to  it,  or,  at  most,  only  in  a  slight 
degree. 

Any  man,  who,  by  nature,  is  of  a  bad  constitution, 
may  similarly,  through  the  use  of  reason  and  the  help  of 
the  temperate  life,  enjoy  perfect  health  to  a  very  great 
age;  just  as  I  have  done,  although  my  constitution  was 
naturally  so  wretched  that  it  seemed  impossible  I  should 
live  beyond  the  age  of  forty.  Whereas,  I  am  now  in  my 
eighty-sixth  year,  full  of  health  and  strength;  and,  were 
it  not  for  the  long  and  severe  illnesses  with  which  I  was 
visited  so  frequently  during  my  youth  and  which  were  so 
serious  that  the  physicians  at  times  despaired  of  saving 
me,  I  should  have  hoped  to  reach  the  above-mentioned 
term  of  a  hundred  years.  But,  through  those  illnesses,  I 
lost  a.large  part  of  my  radical  moisture ;  and,  as  this  loss 
can  never  be  repaired,  reason  teaches  that  it  will  be  im- 
possible for  me  to  reach  the  extreme  term.  Therefore,  as 
I  shall  show  later  on,  I  never  give  the  matter  a  thought. 
It  is  quite  enough  for  me  that  I  have  lived  forty-six  years 
longer  than  I  could  reasonably  have  expected;  and  that, 
at  such  an  advanced  age  as  mine,  all  my  senses  and 
organs  remain  in  perfect  condition — even  my  teeth,  my 
voice,  my  memory,  and  my  heart.  And  as  for  my  brain, 
it,  especially,  is  more  active  now  than  it  ever  was.  Nor  do 
these  powers  suffer  any  decline  with  the  increase  of  years 
—a  blessing  to  be  attributed  solely  to  the  fact  of  my 
increasing  the  temperateness  of  my  life. 

For,  as  my  years  multiply,  I  lessen  the  quantity  of 
my  food ;  since,  indeed,  this  decrease  is  absolutely  neces- 


[79] 


THE   ART    OP    LIVING   LONG 

sary  and  cannot  be  avoided.  We  cannot  live  forever; 
and,  as  the  end  of  life  draws  near,  man  is  reduced  by 
degrees  to  that  state  in  which  he  is  no  longer  able  to  eat 
anything  at  all,  save  it  may  be  to  swallow,  and  that  with 
difficulty,  the  yolk  of  an  egg  each  day.  Thus,  as  I  am 
confident  I  shall  do,  he  closes  his  career  by  mere  dis- 
solution of  the  elements  and  without  any  pain  or  illness. 
This,  certainly  a  most  desirable  lot,  is  one  that  will  be 
granted  to  all,  of  what  degree  or  condition  soever,  who 
lead  the  temperate  life,  whether  they  occupy  a  high 
position,  or  that  of  the  middle  class,  or  are  found  in  the 
humblest  ranks  of  life;  for  we  all  belong  to  one  species, 
and  are  composed  of  the  same  four  elements. 

And,  since  a  long  and  healthy  life  is  a  blessing  to  be 
highly  valued  by  man,  as  I  shall  hereafter  explain,  I 
conclude  he  is  in  duty  bound  to  do  all  in  his  power  to 
attain  it.  Nor  should  any  hope  to  enjoy  this  blessing  of 
longevity  without  the  means  of  the  temperate  life,  even 
though  they  may  have  heard  it  said  that  some  who  did 
not  live  temperately,  but,  on  the  contrary,  ate  much  of 
every  kind  of  food  and  drank  large  quantities  of  wine, 
have  lived,  in  the  enjoyment  of  health,  to  see  their 
hundredth  year.  For,  in  holding  out  to  themselves  the 
hope  that  this  good  fortune  will,  in  like  manner,  be 
vouchsafed  to  them  also,  they  make  two  mistakes :  in  the 
first  place,  there  is  scarcely  one  man  in  a  hundred 
thousand,  who,  living  such  a  life,  ever  attains  that 
happiness ;  and,  secondly,  the  intemperate  sicken  and  die 
in  consequence  of  their  manner  of  living,  and  can  never 
be  sure  of  death  without  ills  or  infirmity. 

Therefore,  the  only  mode  of  living  that  will  render 
you  secure  in  the  hope  of  long  years  in  health  consists  in 
your  adopting,  at  least  after  the  age  of  forty,  the 
temperate  life.    This  is  not  difficult  to  observe;  since  so 


[80] 


LOUIS    COENAEO  S    TREATISE 

many  in  the  past,  as  history  informs  us,  have  observed  it ; 
and  many,  of  whom  I  am  one,  are  doing  so  at  the  present 
time— and  we  are  all  men;  and  man,  being  a  rational 
animal,  does  much  as  he  wills  to  do.  The  orderly  and 
temperate  life  consists  solely  in  the  observance  of  two 
rules  relative  to  the  quality  and  the  quantity  of  our  food. 
The  first,  which  regards  quality,  consists  in  our  eating 
and  drinking  only  such  things  as  agree  with  the  stomach ; 
while  the  latter,  which  relates  to  quantity,  consists  in  our 
using  only  such  an  amount  of  them  as  can  be  easily 
digested.  Every  man,  by  the  time  he  has  reached  the  age 
of  forty,  fifty,  or,  at  any  rate,  sixty  years,  ought  surely 
to  be  familiar  with  the  conditions  relating  to  the  quality 
and  quantity  of  food  suited  to  his  individual  constitution ; 
and  he  who  observes  these  two  rules,  lives  the  orderly 
and  temperate  life—  a  life  which  has  so  much  virtue  and 
power  that  it  renders  the  humors  of  the  body  most 
perfect,  harmonious,  and  united.  Indeed,  they  are 
brought  to  so  satisfactory  a  condition  that  it  is  impossible 
they  should  ever  be  disturbed  or  altered  by  any  form  of 
disorder  which  we  may  incur,  such  as  suffering  extreme 
heat  or  cold,  extraordinary  fatigue,  loss  of  customary 
sleep,  or  any  other  disorder— unless  carried  to  the  last 
excess. 

In  a  word,  the  humors  of  the  body,  if  it  be  governed 
by  these  two  excellent  rules  relative  to  eating  and 
drinking,  resist  weakening  changes;  thus  fever,  from 
which  proceeds  untimely  death,  is  made  impossible.  It 
would  seem,  then,  that  every  man  should  observe  the 
orderly  life ;  for  it  is  beyond  doubt  that  whoever  does  not 
follow  it,  but  lives  a  disorderly  and  intemperate  life,  is,  on 
account  of  excessive  eating  and  drinking  as  well  as  of 
each  and  every  one  of  the  other  innumerable  disorders, 
constantly  exposed  to  the  danger  of  sickness  and  of  death. 


[81] 


THE   AKT    UF   LIVING   LONG 

I  admit  it  to  be  quite  true  that  even  those  who  are 
faithful  to  the  two  rules  in  regard  to  eating  and  drinking, 
—the  observance  of  which  constitutes  the  orderly  and 
temperate  life,— may,  if  exposed  to  some  of  the  other  dis- 
orders, be  ailing  for  a  day  or  two ;  but  their  indisposition 
will  never  be  able  to  cause  fever.  They  may,  likewise,  be 
influenced  by  the  revolutions  of  the  heavens.  But  neither 
the  heavens,  nor  those  disorders,  are  capable  of  disturb- 
ing the  humors  of  those  who  follow  the  temperate  life. 
This  statement  is  but  conformable  to  reason  and  nature ; 
since  the  disorders  of  eating  and  drinking  are  internal, 
while  all  others  are  external  only. 

But  there  are  persons,  who,  notwithstanding  they 
are  advanced  in  years,  are  none  the  less  sensual.  These 
maintain  that  neither  the  quantity  nor  the  quality  of  their 
food  or  drink  in  any  way  injures  them;  therefore  they 
use,  without  discrimination,  large  quantities  of  different 
viands,  and  are  equally  indiscreet  with  regard  to  drink, 
as  if  ignorant  in  what  region  of  the  body  the  stomach  is 
situated.  Thus  they  give  proof  of  their  gross  sensuality 
and  of  the  fact  that  they  are  the  friends  of  gluttony.  To 
these  be  it  set  forth,  that  what  they  assert  is  not  possible 
according  to  nature;  for  whoever  is  born  must,  neces- 
sarily, bring  into  this  world  with  him  either  a  warm,  or 
a  cold,  or  else  a  moderate  temperament.  Now  to  say 
that  warm  foods  agree  with  a  warm  temperament,  that 
cold  foods  agree  with  a  cold  one,  or  that  foods  which 
are  not  of  a  moderate  quality  agree  with  a  moderate 
temperament,  is  to  state  something  naturally  impossible. 
Therefore  each  one  must  choose  the  quality  of  food  best 
suited  to  his  constitution.  Nor  can  those  addicted  to 
sensuality  argue  that,  whenever  they  fall  sick,  they  are 
enabled  to  free  themselves  of  their  sickness  by  clearing 
their  systems  with  medicines  and  then  observing  a  strict 


[82] 


LOUIS   COENAEO'S   TEEATISE 

diet.  It  is  very  evident,  thereby,  that  their  trouble 
arises  solely  from  indulgence  in  overmuch  food,  and 
that  of  a  quality  unsuited  to  their  stomachs. 

There  are  other  persons,  likewise  elderly,  who 
declare  that  they  are  obliged  to  eat  and  drink  a  great 
deal  to  maintain  the  natural  warmth  of  their  bodies, 
which  constantly  diminishes  as  their  years  increase; 
that  they  must  have  whatever  food  pleases  their  taste, 
whether  hot,  or  cold,  or  temperate;  and  that,  were  they 
to  live  the  temperate  life,  they  would  soon  die.  My 
answer  thereto  is  that  kind  Mother  Nature,  in  order 
that  the  aged,  whom  she  loves,  may  be  preserved  to  yet 
greater  age,  has  so  provided  that  they  are  able  to  live 
with  very  little  food,  even  as  I  do ;  because  the  stomachs 
of  the  old  and  feeble  cannot  digest  large  quantities. 
They  need  not  fear  that  their  lives  will  be  shortened  by 
reason  of  their  not  taking  much  food;  since,  by  using 
very  little  when  sick,  they  recover  their  health— and  we 
know  how  sparing  is  the  diet  by  the  use  of  which  inva- 
lids are  restored.  If,  by  confining  themselves  to  a  scanty 
fare  when  ill,  they  are  freed  of  their  disorders,  why 
should  they  fear  that,  while  using  the  larger  quantity  of 
food  permitted  by  the  temperate  life,  they  should  not  be 
able  to  sustain  their  lives  when  in  perfect  health? 

Others,  again,  say  that  it  is  better  to  suffer  three  or 
four  times  a  year  with  their  usual  complaints,  such  as 
the  gout,  pains  in  the  side,  or  other  ills,  rather  than 
suffer  the  whole  year  round  by  not  gratifying  the  appe- 
tite in  the  eating  of  those  things  which  please  the  palate ; 
since  they  know  that  by  the  medicine  of  a  simple  diet 
they  can  speedily  recover.  To  them  I  reply  that,  with  the 
increase  of  years  and  the  consequent  decrease  of  natural 
heat,  dieting  cannot  always  have  sufficient  power  to  undo 
the  grave  harm  done  by  overeating.      Hence  they  will 


[83] 


THE   AET    OF   LIVING   LONG 

necessarily  succumb,  at  last,  to  these  ailments  of  theirs: 
for  sickness  shortens  life,  even  as  health  prolongs  it. 

Others,  again,  insist  that  it  is  far  better  to  live  ten 
years  less,  rather  than  to  deprive  one's  self  of  the 
pleasure  of  gratifying  the  appetite.  To  this,  I  would 
say  that  men  endowed  with  fine  talents  ought  to  prize  a 
long  life  very  highly.  For  the  balance,  it  matters  little 
that  they  do  not  value  it;  and,  as  they  only  make  the 
world  less  beautiful,  it  is  as  well,  perhaps,  that  they 
should  die. 

The  great  misfortune  is  that  a  refined  and  talented 
man  should  die  before  he  has  attained  the  natural  limit 
of  his  life;  since,  if  he  is  already  a  cardinal,  when  he 
has  passed  the  age  of  eighty  he  will  the  more  likely 
become  pope ;  if  he  is  a  public  official,  how  much  greater 
is  the  possibility  of  his  being  called  to  the  highest  dig- 
nity in  the  state;  if  a  man  of  letters,  he  will  be  looked 
upon  as  a  god  on  earth ;  and  the  same  is  true  of  all  oth- 
ers, according  to  their  various  occupations. 

There  are  others,  again,  who,  having  come  to  old 
age,  when  the  stomach  naturally  possesses  less  digestive 
power,  will  not  consent  to  diminish  the  quantity  of  their 
food ;  nay,  on  the  contrary,  they  increase  it.  And  since, 
eating  twice  in  the  day,  they  find  they  cannot  digest  the 
great  amount  of  food  with  which  they  burden  their 
stomachs,  they  decide  that  it  is  better  to  eat  but  once; 
for,  relying  upon  the  long  interval  thus  allowed  between 
meals,  they  believe  themselves  able  to  eat,  at  one  time, 
the  same  quantity  which  they  had  previously  divided 
into  two  meals.  But,  in  doing  this,  they  are  guilty  of 
a  fatal  error ;  for  they  eat  such  a  quantity  that  the  stom- 
ach is  overloaded  so  grievously  as  to  suffer  and  become 
sour,  converting  the  excessive  food  into  those  bad  humors 
which  kill  men  before  their  time. 


[84] 


LOUIS    COEJSTAEO  S    TREATISE 

I  may  say  I  have  never  known  any  person  to  live 
to  a  great  age  who  indulged  in  that  habit  of  life.  Yet, 
all  these  persons  would  live  to  enjoy  the  blessings  of 
extreme  old  age,  if,  as  their  years  increase,  they  were 
but  to  reduce  the  quantity  of  their  food  and  distribute 
it  into  several  meals  during  the  day,  eating  but  little  at 
a  time;  for  the  stomachs  of  the  aged  cannot  digest  a 
great  quantity  of  food.  Thus  it  is  that  an  old  man 
becomes,  in  regard  to  his  nourishment,  more  and  more 
like  a  child,  who  has  to  eat  many  times  during  the  day. 

Finally,  we  have  those  who  say  that  while  the  tem- 
perate life  may  indeed  be  able  to  preserve  a  man  in 
health,  it  cannot  prolong  his  life.  To  these  I  answer 
that  experience  proves  the  contrary  to  be  true;  for  we 
know  of  many  persons,  who,  in  times  past,  have  prolonged 
their  lives  in  this  manner,  and  it  may  be  observed  that 
I,  too,  have  thus  prolonged  mine.  It  cannot,  whatever 
may  be  said,  be  objected  that  sobriety  shortens  the  life 
of  man  as  sickness  unquestionably  does.  Therefore  it 
is  more  conducive  to  the  preservation  of  the  radical 
moisture  that  a  man  be  always  healthy  than  that  he  be 
often  sick.  Hence  we  may  reasonably  conclude  that  the 
holy  temperate  life  is  the  true  mother  of  health  and  of 
longevity. 

0  most  blessed  and  holy  Temperate  Life,  so  profit- 
able to  man,  and  so  helpful !  Thou  enablest  him  to  pro- 
long his  life  to  ripe  old  age,  wherein  he  becomes  wise 
and  hearkens  to  reason, — that  faculty  which  is  man's 
peculiar  property, — by  means  of  which  he  is  freed  from 
sensuality,  reason's  worst  enemy,  and  its  bitter  fruits, 
the  passions  and  anxieties  of  the  mind.  Thou  deliverest 
him  also  from  the  fearful  thought  of  death.  Oh,  how 
much  am  I,  thy  faithful  follower,  indebted  to  thee!  for 
it  is  through  thee  I  enjoy  this  beautiful  world— beauti- 


[85] 


THE   AKT   OF   LIVING   LONG 

ful,  indeed,  to  him  who  knows  how,  by  thy  effectual  help, 
to  make  it  so  for  himself,  as  thou  hast  enabled  me  to  do ! 

At  no  other  period  of  my  existence,  even  in  my 
sensual  and  disorderly  youth,  could  I  make  life  so  beauti- 
ful; and  yet,  in  order  to  enjoy  every  portion  of  it,  I 
spared  neither  expense  nor  anything  else.  For  I  found 
that  the  pleasures  of  those  years  were,  after  all,  but 
vain  and  filled  with  disappointments ;  so  that  I  may  say 
I  never  knew  the  world  was  beautiful  until  I  reached 
old  age. 

0  truly  Happy  Life !  Thou,  besides  all  the  aforesaid 
manifold  blessings  thou  grantest  to  thy  old  disciple,  hast 
brought  his  stomach  to  so  good  and  perfect  a  condition 
that  he  now  relishes  plain  bread  more  than  he  ever  did 
the  most  delicate  viands  in  the  years  of  his  youth.  All 
this  thou  dost  because  thou  art  reasonable,  knowing  that 
bread  is  the  proper  food  of  man  when  accompanied  by 
a  healthful  appetite.  This  natural  company,  so  long  as 
a  man  follows  the  temperate  life,  he  may  be  sure  will 
never  fail  him;  since,  he  eating  but  little,  the  stomach 
is  but  lightly  burdened  and  has  always,  within  a  short 
time,  a  renewed  desire  for  food.  For  this  reason  plain 
bread  is  so  much  relished.  This  I  have  proved  by  my 
own  experience  to  be  true;  and  I  declare  that  I  enjoy 
bread  so  much  that  I  should  be  afraid  of  incurring  the 
vice  of  gluttony,  were  it  not  that  I  am  convinced  it  is 
necessary  we  should  eat  of  it  and  that  we  cannot  partake 
of  a  more  natural  food. 

And  thou.  Mother  Nature,  so  loving  to  thy  old  man, 
preserving  him  so  long!  Thou,  besides  providing  that 
with  little  food  he  may  maintain  himself,  hast  moreover 
shown  him — to  favor  him  more  and  in  order  that  his 
nourishment  may  be  more  profitable  to  him — that,  while 
in  youth  he  partook  of  two  meals  a  day,  now,  that  he 


[86] 


LOUIS   COENAEO'S   TEEATISE 

has  attained  old  age,  Ms  food  must  be  divided  into  four ; 
since,  thus  divided,  it  will  be  more  easily  digested  by 
his  stomach.  In  this  way  thou  showest  him  that,  as  in 
youth  he  enjoyed  the  pleasures  of  the  table  but  twice  a 
day,  now,  in  his  old  age,  he  may  enjoy  them  four  times, 
provided,  however,  he  diminishes  the  quantity  of  his 
food  as  he  advances  in  age. 

As  thou  showest  me,  so  do  I  observe.  In  conse- 
quence of  which,  my  spirits,  never  oppressed  by  much 
food,  but  simply  sustained,  are  always  cheerful ;  and  their 
energy  is  never  greater  than  after  meals.  For  I  feel, 
when  I  leave  the  table,  that  I  must  sing,  and,  after  sing- 
ing, that  I  must  write.  This  writing  immediately  after 
eating  does  not  cause  me  any  discomfort ;  nor  is  my  mind 
less  clear  then  than  at  other  times.  And  I  do  not  feel 
like  sleeping;  for  the  small  amount  of  food  I  take  can- 
not make  me  drowsy,  as  it  is  insufficient  to  send  fumes 
from  the  stomach  to  the  head. 

Oh,  how  profitable  it  is  to  the  old  to  eat  but  little! 
I,  accordingly,  who  am  filled  with  the  knowledge  of  this 
truth,  eat  only  what  is  enough  to  sustain  my  life;  and 
my  food  is  as  follows: 

First,  bread;  then,  bread  soup  or  light  broth  with 
an  egg,  or  some  other  nice  little  dish  of  this  kind;  of 
meats,  I  eat  veal,  kid,  and  mutton;  I  eat  fowls  of  all 
kinds,  as  well  as  partridges  and  birds  like  the  thrush.  I 
also  partake  of  such  salt-water  fish  as  the  goldney  and 
the  like;  and,  among  the  various  fresh-water  kinds,  the 
pike  and  others. 

As  all  these  articles  of  food  are  suited  to  old  people, 
the  latter  must  be  satisfied  with  them  and  not  demand 
others ;  for  they  are  quite  sufficient,  both  in  number  and 
variety.  Old  persons,  who,  on  account  of  poverty,  cannot 
afford  to  indulge  in  all  of  these  things,    may  maintain 


[87] 


THE   AET   OF   LIVING  LONG 

their  lives  with  bread,  bread  soup,  and  eggs— foods  that 
certainly  cannot  be  wanting  even  to  a  poor  man,  unless 
he  be  one  of  the  kind  commonly  known  as  good-for- 
nothing. 

Yet,  even  though  the  poor  should  eat  nothing  but 
bread,  bread  soup,  and  eggs,  they  must  not  take  a  greater 
quantity  than  that  which  can  be  easily  digested ;  for  they 
must,  at  all  times,  remember  that  he  who  is  constantly 
faithful  to  the  above-mentioned  rules  in  regard  to  the 
quantity  and  quality  of  his  food,  cannot  die  except  by 
simple  dissolution  and  without  illness. 

Oh,  what  a  difference  there  is  between  the  orderly 
and  a  disorderly  life!  The  former  blesses  a  man  with 
perfect  health  and,  at  the  same  time,  lengthens  his  life; 
while  the  latter,  on  the  other  hand,  after  bringing  infirm- 
ities upon  him,  causes  him  to  die  before  his  time. 

0  thou  unhappy  and  wretched  disorderly  life,  thou 
art  my  sworn  enemy ;  for  thou  knowest  how  to  do  nothing 
save  to  murder  those  who  follow  thee!  How  many  of 
my  dearest  relatives  and  friends  hast  thou  snatched  from 
me,  because,  for  thy  sake,  they  would  not  listen  to  my 
advice!  But  for  thee,  I  might  at  this  moment  be  enjoy- 
ing them! 

Yet  thou  hast  not  succeeded  in  destroying  me,  though 
right  willingly  wouldst  thou  have  done  so;  but,  in  spite 
of  thee,  I  am  still  living  and  have  reached  this  advanced 
age.  I  rejoice  in  my  eleven  grandchildren  by  whom  I 
am  surrounded,  and  who  are  all  of  bright  intellect  and 
noble  nature,  healthy,  beautiful,  fond  of  their  studies, 
and  inclined  to  good  habits.  Them,  if  I  had  listened  to 
thee,  I  should  never  have  enjoyed.  Nor,  had  I  followed 
thee,  should  I  ever  have  experienced  the  pleasure  now 
afforded  me  in  the  comfortable  and  beautiful  habitations 
of   my   own   creation,    which   I   have   surrounded   with 


[88] 


LOUIS    COKNAEO'S    TKEATISE 

attractive  gardens  that  have  required  great  length  of 
time  to  be  brought  to  their  present  state  of  perfection. 

No !  for  thy  nature  is  to  murder  all  those  who  follow 
thee,  before  they  have  the  joy  of  witnessing  the  comple- 
tion of  their  houses  and  gardens.  Whilst  I,  to  thy  con- 
fusion, have  already  enjoyed  the  comfort  of  mine  for 
many  years. 

Thou  art  a  vice  so  pestilential  that  thou  spreadest 
sickness  and  corruption  throughout  the  world;  for  which 
reason  I  have  determined  to  use  every  means  in  my 
power  to  deliver  mankind  from  thy  clutches,  at  least  as 
far  as  I  am  able.  I  have  resolved  to  work  against  thee 
in  such  a  manner  that  my  eleven  grandchildren,  after 
me,  shall  make  thee  known  for  that  most  wretched  and 
vicious  thing  thou  really  art— the  mortal  enemy  of  all 
men  who  are  born. 

I  am  astonished,  indeed,  that  men  gifted  with  fine 
intellect— for  there  are  many  such— and  who  have 
reached  a  high  position  either  in  literature  or  some  other 
occupation,  should  not  embrace  and  follow  the  temperate 
life,  at  least  when  they  come  to  the  age  of  fifty  or  sixty 
and  are  troubled  with  any  of  the  above-mentioned  dis- 
orders; for,  by  following  the  temperate  life,  they  could 
easily  deliver  themselves  from  these  ailments,  which, 
later  on,  if  allowed  to  make  further  progress,  will 
become  incurable.  I  do  not  wonder  so  much  that  some 
young  men — those  of  them,  at  least,  whose  lives  and 
habits  are  controlled  by  sensuality— should  neglect 
sobriety;  but  certainly,  after  a  man  has  passed  the  age 
of  fifty,  his  life  should  be  altogether  guided  by  reason, 
which  teaches  that  the  gratification  of  the  tastes  and 
appetites  means  infirmity  and  death. 

If  this  pleasure  of  the  taste  were  a  lasting  one,  we 
might  have  some  patience  with  those  who  are  so  ready 


[89] 


THE   ART   OF    LIVING   LONG 

to  yield  to  it.  But  it  is  so  short-lived  that  it  is  no  sooner 
begun  than  ended;  while  the  infirmities  which  proceed 
from  it  are  of  very  long  duration.  Moreover,  to  the  man 
who  follows  the  temperate  life  it  is  assuredly  a  great 
satisfaction  to  know,  when  he  has  finished  eating,  that 
the  food  he  has  taken  will  never  cause  him  any  sickness, 
but  will  keep  him  in  perfect  health. 

I  have  now  completed  the  short  addition  I  wished  to 
make  to  my  treatise,  "The  Temperate  Life"— an  addi- 
tion based  on  new  arguments,  though,  at  the  same  time, 
it  is  one  of  few  words.  For  I  have  observed  that  long 
discourses  are  read  by  a  few  only,  while  brief  ones  are 
read  by  many;  and  I  most  heartily  desire  that  this  be 
read  by  many,  in  order  that  it  may  prove  useful  to  many. 


[90] 


THE  THIRD    DISCOURSE 

Written  at  the  Age  of  Ninety- one 
A   LETTEE    FKOM    THE   YENEKABLE    COKNARO 

TO 

THE   REVEREND   DANIEL  BARBARO* 

patriarch  elect  of  aquileia** 

In  which  he  gives  manhind  a  rule  of  life  that  will,  if 

followed,  assure   a    healthy  and 

happy  old  age 


THE  intellect  of  man  truly  partakes,  in  some  degree, 
of  the  divine  prerogatives;  for  it  was,  indeed, 
something  divine  which  led  him  to  find  a  way  of 
conversing,  by  means  of  writing,  with  another  who  is  at 
a  distance.  And  a  thing  altogether  divine,  also,  is  that 
natural  faculty  which  enables  him,  when  thus  separated, 
to  behold,  with  the  eye  of  thought,  his  beloved  friend; 
even  as  I  now  see  you.  Sir,  and  address  to  you  this  my 
discourse  on  a  pleasant  and  profitable  subject. 

*  See  Note  J  **  See  Note  K 

[91] 


THE   ART    OF    LIVING   LONG 

It  is  true  that  what  I  shall  write  will  be  upon  a  mat- 
ter which  has  already  been  treated  at  other  times,  but 
never  by  any  man  at  the  age  of  ninety-one— at  which 
time  of  life  I  am  now  writing.  On  account  of  my  age, 
I  cannot  be  at  fault;  for  the  more  my  years  multiply, 
the  more  my  strength  also  increases.  And  I,  who  am 
well  aware  from  what  cause  this  proceeds,  feel  compelled 
to  make  it  known,  and  to  show  that  all  mankind  may  pos- 
sess an  earthly  paradise  after  the  age  of  eighty— a  para- 
dise with  which  I  myself  am  blessed.  But  one  cannot 
attain  it  otherwise  than  by  means  of  holy  self-restraint 
and  the  temperate  life— two  virtues  much  loved  by  the 
great  God,  because  they  are  the  enemies  of  sensuality 
and  the  friends  of  reason. 

Now,  Sir,  to  begin  my  discourse,  I  shall  tell  you 
that  I  have,  within  the  past  few  days,  been  visited  by  a 
number  of  excellent  professors  who  lecture  in  our  Uni- 
versity—doctors of  medicine  as  well  as  philosophy. 
These  gentlemen  are  all  well  acquainted  with  my  age, 
and  with  my  manner  and  habits  of  living,  and  know  how 
full  I  am  of  cheerfulness  and  health.  They  know,  too, 
that  all  my  senses  are  in  perfect  condition— as  also  are 
my  memory,  my  heart,  and  my  mind — and  that  this  is 
equally  true  of  even  my  voice  and  my  teeth.  Nor  are 
they  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  I  constantly  write,  and 
with  my  own  hand,  eight  hours  a  day,  and  always  on 
subjects  profitable  to  the  world;  and,  in  addition  to  this, 
that  I  walk  and  sing  for  many  other  hours. 

Oh,  how  beautiful  and  sonorous  has  my  voice 
become!  If  you  could  but  hear  me  sing  my  prayers  to 
the  accompaniment  of  the  lyre,  as  King  David  sang  to 
that  of  the  harp,  I  assure  you  that  you  would  derive  great 
pleasure. 

Among  other  things,  my  visitors,  the  doctors,  said: 


[92] 


LOUIS  COENAEO  S  TEEATISE 

*'It  is  certainly  marvelous  that  you  are  able  to  write  so 
much,  and  upon  subjects  which  require  such  thought  and 
spirit, ' '  Concerning  which,  Sir,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  one 
can  form  no  idea  of  the  extreme  pleasure  and  satisfac- 
tion I  experience  in  writing  thus;  and,  when  I  reflect 
that  my  writings  will  assuredly  be  useful  to  mankind, 
you  can  readily  understand  how  great  is  my  delight. 

In  fine,  they  said  that  I  could  by  no  means  be  con- 
sidered an  old  man.  For  all  my  actions  are  those  of 
youth,  and  not  at  all  like  the  actions  of  other  old  persons ; 
who,  when  they  have  arrived  at  the  age  of  eighty,  are 
almost  helpless,  besides  having  to  suffer  either  from 
pains  in  the  side  or  from  some  other  complaint.  In 
order  to  rid  themselves  of  these  troubles,  they  are  con- 
tinually subject  to  medical  treatment  or  surgical  opera- 
tions, all  of  which  are  a  great  annoyance.  Should  there 
be  any  among  them  so  fortunate  as  not  to  suifer  from 
these  infirmities,  it  will  be  found  that  their  senses  have 
begun  to  fail— either  that  of  sight,  or  that  of  hearing, 
or  some  other  one.  We  know  of  old  persons  who  cannot 
walk,  and  of  others  who  cannot  use  their  hands  because 
they  tremble;  and,  if  one  of  the  number  is  so  favored 
as  to  be  free  from  the  above  troubles,  it  will  be  observed 
that  he  does  not  have  a  perfect  memory,  or  else  that  his 
heart  or  his  mind  is  weak.  In  a  word,  there  is  not  one 
among  them  who  enjoys  a  cheerful,  happy,  and  contented 
life,  such  as  mine  is. 

But,  besides  these  many  advantages  which  I  pos- 
sess, there  is  a  special  one  which  caused  them  to  wonder 
extremely,  because  it  is  so  very  uncommon  and  contrary 
to  nature;  and  that  is,  that  I  should  have  been  able  to 
keep  myself  alive  during  the  past  fifty  years,  notwith- 
standing the  presence  of  an  extreme  difficulty — one  of  a 
mortal  character— that  has  always  been  present  in  me. 


[93] 


THE   ART    OF    LIVING   LONG 

This  difficulty,  which  cannot  be  remedied,  because  it  is  a 
natural  and  hidden  property  of  my  constitution,  con- 
sists in  this:  every  year,  from  the  beginning  of  July 
and  throughout  the  whole  of  August,  I  cannot  drink  any 
kind  of  wine  soever,  be  it  of  what  variety  of  grape  or 
of  what  country  it  may;  for,  during  the  whole  of  those 
two  months,  wine,  besides  being  very  unfriendly  to  my 
palate,  disagrees  with  my  stomach.  So  that,  being  with- 
out my  milk,— for  wine  is  truly  the  milk  of  the  aged,— 
I  am  left  without  anything  to  drink ;  for  waters,  in  what- 
ever way  they  may  be  doctored  or  prepared,  have  not 
the  virtue  of  wine,  and  fail  to  relieve  me.  My  stomach 
becomes  very  much  disordered,  and  I  can  eat  but  very 
little  in  consequence.  This  scarcity  of  food  and  lack  of 
wine  reduces  me,  by  the  latter  part  of  August,  to  a  con- 
dition of  extreme  mortal  weakness.  Neither  does  strong 
chicken  broth  nor  any  other  remedy  benefit  me  in  the 
least;  so  that,  through  weakness  alone,— not  by  any  ail- 
ment,—I  am  brought  very  near  a  dying  condition.  It 
was  evident  to  my  visitors  that,  if  the  new  wine,  which 
I  am  always  careful  to  have  ready  every  year  by  the 
beginning  of  September,  were  not  then  forthcoming,  the 
delay  would  be  the  cause  of  my  death. 

But  they  were  yet  more  amazed  at  the  fact  that  this 
new  wine  should  have  power  to  restore,  in  two  or  three 
days,  the  strength  of  which  the  old  wine  had  deprived 
me — a  thing  of  which  they  had  themselves  been  eye-wit- 
nesses, and  which  could  not  be  believed  except  by  those 
who  have  seen  it. 

''Some  of  us,"  the  doctors  went  on  to  say,  ''have 
observed  your  strange  case  for  many  years  in  succes- 
sion ;  and,  for  the  past  ten  years,  it  has  been  our  opinion 
that,  considering  what  a  mortal  difficulty  you  are  under 
as  well  as  your  increasing  age,    it  would  be  impossible 


[94] 


LOUIS    CORNAEO'S   TREATISE 

for  you  to  live  more  than  a  year  or  two  longer.  Yet  we 
see,  this  year,  that  your  weakness  is  less  than  in  previous 
years. ' ' 

This  blessing,  associated  with  so  many  others, 
forced  them  to  the  conclusion  that  the  union  of  all  these 
many  favors  was  a  special  grace  bestowed  on  me  at  birth 
by  Nature  or  by  the  heavens.  In  order  to  prove  this 
conclusion  true, — though  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  false, 
because  not  based  upon  good  reasons  and  solid  founda- 
tions, but  simply  upon  their  own  opinions,— they  found 
themselves  under  the  necessity  of  giving  utterance  to 
many  beautiful  and  lofty  things  with  the  finest  eloquence. 
Eloquence,  Sir,  in  men  of  intellect,  verily  has  great 
power;  so  much  so,  indeed,  that  it  will  persuade  some 
people  to  believe  things  that  are  not  and  can  not  be  true. 
Their  words,  however,  were  to  me  a  great  pleasure  and 
quite  an  amusing  pastime;  for  it  is  certainly  highly 
entertaining  to  listen  to  such  talk  from  men  of  their 
intelligence. 

And  here  I  was  granted  another  satisfaction; 
namely,  the  thought  that  advanced  age,  by  reason  of  its 
experience,  is  able  to  confer  learning  upon  the  unlearned. 
This  is  not  difficult  to  understand;  for  length  of  days  is 
the  real  foundation  of  true  knowledge— by  means  of 
which,  alone,  I  was  made  aware  of  the  erroneousness  of 
their  conclusions.  Thus  you  see.  Sir,  how  apt  men  are 
to  err  in  forming  their  opinions  when  these  are  not  based 
upon  solid  foundations. 

In  order,  therefore,  to  undeceive  them  as  well  as  to 
be  of  other  service  to  them,  I  told  them  plainly  that  their 
conclusion  was  wrong,  and  that  I  would  convince  them 
of  this  by  clearly  proving  that  the  blessing  which  I  enjoy 
is  not  a  special  one,  conferred  upon  me  alone,  but  a  gen- 
eral  one  and   such  as   every  man  may  possess   if  he 


[95] 


THE    AET    OF    LIVING   LONG 

choose.  For  I  am  only  an  ordinary  mortal.  Composed, 
like  everybody  else,  of  the  four  elements,  I  have— in 
addition  to  existence— sense,  intellect,  and  reason.  With 
the  two  latter  faculties  every  one  of  us  is  born,  the  great 
God  having  willed  that  man.  His  creature  whom  He  loves 
so  well,  should  possess  these  gifts  and  blessings;  for 
thus  has  He  raised  him  above  all  the  other  creatures 
which  have  sense  only,  in  order  that,  by  means  of  these 
faculties,  he  may  preserve  himself  in  perfect  health  for 
many  years.  Therefore  mine  is  a  universal  blessing, 
granted  by  God,  and  not  by  Nature  or  the  heavens. 

Man  is,  in  his  youth,  however,  more  a  sensual  than 
a  rational  creature,  and  is  inclined  to  live  accordingly. 
Yet,  when  he  has  arrived  at  the  age  of  forty  or  fifty,  he 
certainly  ought  to  realize  that  he  has  been  enabled  to 
reach  the  middle  of  life  solely  through  the  power  of 
youth  and  a  young  stomach,  those  natural  gifts  which 
have  helped  him  in  the  ascent  of  the  hill.  Now  he  must 
bear  in  mind  that,  burdened  with  the  disadvantage  of  old 
age,  he  is  about  to  descend  it  toward  death.  And,  since 
old  age  is  exactly  the  opposite  of  youth,  just  as  disorder 
is  the  reverse  of  order,  it  becomes  imperative  for  him 
to  change  his  habits  of  life  with  regard  to  eating  and 
drinking,  upon  which  a  long  and  healthy  life  depends. 
As  his  earlier  years  were  sensual  and  disorderly,  the 
balance  of  them  must  be  exactly  the  contrary,  reasonable 
and  orderly;  because  without  order  nothing  can  be  pre- 
served— least  of  all,  the  life  of  man.  For  it  is  well 
proved  by  experience  that,  while  disorder  does  grievous 
harm,  order  is  constantly  beneficial. 

It  is  necessarily  impossible,  in  the  nature  of  things, 
that  a  man  should  be  determined  to  satisfy  his  taste  and 
appetite,  and  yet,  at  the  same  time,  commit  no  excesses ; 
so,  to  be  free  from  these  excesses,  I  adopted  the  orderly 


[96] 


LOUIS   COENARO's   TREATISE 

and  temperate  life  when  I  had  once  reached  the  state  of 
manhood.  I  shall  not  deny  that,  in  the  beginning,  I 
experienced  some  difficulty  in  abandoning  an  intemperate 
life  after  leading  it  for  so  many  years.  But,  in  order 
that  I  might  be  able  to  follow  the  temperate  life,  I  prayed 
to  Grod  that  He  would  grant  me  the  virtue  of  self- 
restraint,  knowing  well  that,  when  a  man  has  firmly 
resolved  to  realize  a  noble  enterprise  and  one  which  he 
is  convinced  he  can  accomplish,— though  not  with- 
out difficulty,— it  is  made  much  easier  by  bending  all 
his  energy  upon  doing  it  and  actually  setting  to  work. 
Spurred  by  this  resolve,  I  began,  little  by  little,  to  draw 
myself  away  from  my  disorderly  life,  and,  little  by  little, 
to  embrace  the  orderly  one.  In  this  manner  I  gave 
myself  up  to  the  temperate  life,  which  has  not  since  been 
wearisome  to  me;  although,  on  account  of  the  weakness 
of  my  constitution,  I  was  compelled  to  be  extremely 
careful  with  regard  to  the  quality  and  quantity  of  my 
food  and  drink. 

However,  those  persons  who  are  blessed  with  strong 
constitutions  may  make  use  of  many  other  kinds  and 
qualities  of  food  and  drink,  and  partake  of  them  in 
greater  quantities,  than  I  do;  so  that,  even  though  the 
life  they  follow  be  the  temperate  one,  it  need  not  be  as 
strict  as  mine,  but  much  freer. 

After  they  had  heard  my  arguments  and  found  them 
grounded,  as  they  were,  upon  solid  foundations,  my 
visitors  admitted  that  all  I  had  said  was  true.  The 
youngest  of  them,  however,  while  ready  to  grant  that  the 
graces  and  advantages  which  I  enjoyed  were  general, 
contended  that  I  had  had  at  least  one  special  blessing 
vouchsafed  me,  in  being  able  to  relinquish  so  easily  the 
kind  of  life  I  had  so  long  followed,  and  to  accustom 
myself  to  lead  the  other ;  because,  although  he  had  found 


[97] 


THE  AUT  OF  LIVING  LONG 

this  change,  by  his  own  experience,  to  be  feasible,  to 
him  it  had  been  very  difficult. 

I  replied  that,  being  a  man  like  himself,  I  had  also 
found  it  no  easy  matter  to  pass  from  the  one  kind  of  life 
to  the  other;  but  I  knew  it  was  unworthy  of  a  man 
to  abandon  a  noble  undertaking  simply  on  account  of  the 
difficulties  encountered.  For,  the  more  obstacles  a  man 
meets  and  overcomes,  the  greater  is  the  honor  he  gains 
and  the  more  pleasing  his  action  in  the  sight  of  God. 

Our  Maker,  having  ordained  that  the  life  of  man 
should  last  for  many  years,  is  desirous  that  everyone 
should  attain  the  extreme  limit;  since  He  knows  that, 
after  the  age  of  eighty,  man  is  wholly  freed  from  the 
bitter  fruits  of  sensuality  and  is  replenished  with  those 
of  holy  reason.  Then,  of  necessity,  vices  and  sins  are 
left  behind.  Wherefore  it  is  that  God  wishes  we  should 
all  live  to  extreme  age;  and  He  has  ordained  that  they 
who  do  so  reach  their  natural  limit  of  earthly  existence, 
shall  terminate  it  without  pain  or  sickness  and  by  simple 
dissolution.  Such  is,  indeed,  the  natural  way  of  depart- 
ing from  this  world,  when  we  leave  the  mortal  life  to 
enter  upon  the  immortal  one— as  it  will  be  my  lot  to  do ; 
for  I  feel  certain  that  I  shall  die  while  singing  my 
prayers. 

The  awful  thought  of  death  does  not  trouble  me  in 
the  least,  although  I  realize,  on  account  of  my  many 
years,  I  am  nigh  to  it;  for  I  reflect  that  I  was  born  to 
die,  and  that  many  others  have  departed  this  life  at  a 
much  younger  age  than  mine. 

Nor  am  I  disturbed  by  that  other  thought,  a  com- 
panion of  the  foregoing  one;  namely,  the  thought  of  the 
punishment,  which,  after  death,  must  be  suffered  for 
sins  committed  in  this  life.  For  I  am  a  good  Christian; 
and,  as   such,   I  am  bound  to  believe  that  I  shall  be 


[98] 


LOUIS   CORNARO's   TREATISE 

delivered  from  that  punishment  by  virtue  of  the  most 
sacred  blood  of  Christ,  which  He  shed  in  order  to  free 
us,  His  faithful  servants,  from  those  pains.  Oh,  what 
a  beautiful  life  is  mine,  and  how  happy  my  end  will  be ! 

Having  heard  me  out,  the  young  man  replied  that, 
in  order  to  gain  the  numerous  and  great  advantages  I 
had  gained,  he  was  determined  to  embrace  the  temperate 
life  I  had  so  long  practiced.  He  further  declared 
he  had  already  gained  a  highly  important  one;  namely, 
that  as  he  had  always  had  a  lively  wish  to  live  to  a  very 
great  age,  so  now  he  desired  to  attain  it  as  quickly  as 
possible,  in  order  to  enter  sooner  into  possession  of  the 
delights  of  that  most  enjoyable  season. 

The  great  longing  I  had  to  converse  with  you.  Rever- 
end Sir,  has  forced  me  to  write  at  considerable  length; 
while  that  which  I  still  wish  to  say  to  you  obliges  me  to 
continue  my  letter.    But  I  shall  be  brief. 

Dear  Sir,  there  are  some  very  sensual  men  who 
claim  that  I  have  only  wasted  time,  as  well  as  labor,  in 
composing  my  treatise,  "The  Temperate  Life,"  and  the 
additions  I  have  made  to  it;  for,  as  they  allege,  I  am 
exhorting  men  to  adopt  habits  to  which  it  is  impossible 
for  them  to  conform.  They  assert  that  my  treatise  will 
be  as  vain  as  is  the  "Republic"  by  Plato,  who  labored 
to  write  of  a  system  which  was  impracticable— that,  as  his 
work  is  useless,  so  also  will  mine  be. 

I  wonder  much  at  such  a  line  of  argument  on  the 
part  of  intelligent  men;  for,  if  they  have  read  my 
treatise,  they  must  have  clearly  seen  that  I  had  led  the 
temperate  life  for  many  years  before  writing  anything 
regarding  it.  Nor  should  I  ever  have  written,  had  not 
my  own  experience  convinced  me,  without  a  shadow  of 
doubt,  not  only  that  it  is  a  practicable  life  and  such  as 
all  men  may  easily  lead,  but,  furthermore,  that  it  profits 


[99] 


THE   AKT    OF    LIVING   LONG 

greatly  becanse  it  is  a  life  of  virtue.  I  am  so  much 
indebted  to  it  myself  that  I  felt  obliged  to  write  of  it, 
in  order  that  I  might  make  it  known  to  others  as  the 
inestimable  blessing  it  truly  is.  I  know  of  many  persons, 
who,  after  reading  my  treatise,  have  adopted  that  life; 
and  I  know,  too,  that  in  past  ages,  as  we  read  in 
history,  there  were  many  who  were  remarkable  as  its 
followers.  Hence  the  objection  which  is  urged  against 
Plato's  ''Republic"  certainly  does  not  hold  good  in  the 
case  of  my  treatise,  "The  Temperate  Life."  But  these 
sensual  men,  enemies  of  reason  and  friends  of  intemper- 
ance, will  only  receive  their  just  deserts  if,  while  seeking 
to  gratify  their  every  taste  and  appetite,  they  incur 
painful  sicknesses,  and  meet,  as  many  such  do,  with  a 
premature  death. 


[100] 


LORD    BACON 
1561  —  1626 


From  the  painting  by  Paul  Van  Somer — No.  520,  National  Portrait  Gallery, 

London 

Photograph  copyrighted  by  Walker  and  Cockerell 


THE  rOURTH    DISCOURSE 

Written  at  the  Age  of  Ninety-five 

The  Birth  and  Death  or  Man 

7\    LOVING    EXHORTATION 

Irv  wUich,  by  the  authority  of  his  own  experience,  the  aged  author 

strives  to  persuade  all   mankind   to   follow  the  orderly  and 

ten^perate  life,  in  order  that  they,  too,  n^ay  reach  an 

advanced  age,  in  which  to  enjoy  all  those  graces 

and  blessings  that  God  in  His  goodness 

is  pleased  to  grant  to  mortals 


IN  order  that  I  may  not  fail  in  the  discharge  of  my 
duty— a  law  to  which  every  man  is  bound— and,  at 
the  same  time,  that  I  may  not  forego  the  pleasure 
I  invariably  experience  in  being  of  service  to  my 
fellow-men,  I  have  determined  to  write  and  to  make 
known  to  those  persons  who  do  not  know  them — because 
unacquainted  with  me— the  things  which  are  known  and 
seen  by  those  who  frequent  my  company.  Certain  facts 
I  shall  now  relate  will,  to  some,  appear  difficult  of  belief 


[103] 


THE   ART   OF   LIVING  LONG 

and  well-nigli  impossible ;  nevertheless,  since  they  are  all 
true  and  to  be  seen  in  reality,  I  will  not  refrain  from 
writing  of  them,  that  the  knowledge  of  them  may  benefit 
the  world  at  large. 

In  the  first  place,  I  shall  say  that  I  have,  through 
the  mercy  of  God,  reached  the  age  of  ninety-five;  that  I 
find  myself,  in  spite  of  my  great  age,  healthy,  strong, 
contented,  and  happy;  and  that  I  continually  praise  the 
Divine  Majesty  for  so  much  favor  conferred  upon  me. 
Moreover,  in  the  generality  of  other  old  men  whom  I  see, 
no  sooner  have  they  arrived  at  the  age  of  seventy,  than 
they  are  ailing  and  devoid  of  strength;  melancholy;  and 
continually  occupied  with  the  thought  of  death.  They 
fear,  from  day  to  day,  that  their  last  hour  will  come ;  so 
much  so,  that  it  is  impossible  for  anything  to  relieve 
their  minds  of  that  dread.  For  my  part,  I  do  not  ex- 
perience the  least  trouble  at  the  idea  of  death;  for,  as  I 
shall  later  on  explain  more  clearly,  I  cannot  bring  my- 
self to  give  it  so  much  as  a  thought. 

In  addition  to  this,  I  shall  demonstrate,  beyond 
question,  the  certainty  I  entertain  of  living  to  the  age  of 
one  hundred  years.  But,  in  order  that  I  may  proceed 
methodically,  I  shall  begin  with  the  consideration  of  man 
at  his  birth,  studying  him  thence,  step  by  step,  through 
every  stage  of  life  until  his  death, 

I  say,  then,  that  some  human  beings  are  ushered  into 
this  world  with  so  little  vitality  that  they  live  but  a  very 
few  days,  months,  or  years,  as  the  case  may  be.  The 
cause  of  this  want  of  vitality  it  is  impossible  to  know  to 
a  certainty,  whether  it  arises  from  some  imperfection  of 
the  father  or  mother,  from  the  revolutions  of  the  heavens, 
or  from  some  defect  in  Nature.  This  latter,  however, 
can  happen  only  when  she  is  subject  to  the  influence  of 
the  heavens ;  for  I  could  never  persuade  myself  to  believe 


[104] 


LOUIS    CORNAEO  S    TREATISE 

that  Nature,  being  the  mother  of  all,  could  be  so  ungener- 
ous to  any  of  her  children.  Hence,  not  being  able  to 
ascertain  the  real  cause,  we  must  be  content  to  accept  the 
facts  as  we  daily  observe  them. 

Others  are  born  with  greater  vitality,  yet  with  feeble 
and  poor  constitutions.  Of  these,  some  live  to  the  age 
of  ten,  others  to  twenty,  others  even  to  thirty  or  forty 
years;  but  they  never  reach  old  age. 

Others,  again,  begin  life  with  perfect  constitutions 
and  live  to  old  age ;  but  the  health  of  the  greater  part  of 
them  is,  as  I  have  said  before,  in  a  very  wretched  con- 
dition. They  are  themselves  the  sole  cause  of  this; 
simply  because,  foolishly  relying  too  much  upon  their 
perfect  natures,  they  are  unwilling,  under  any  circum- 
stances, to  modify  their  manner  of  living  when  passing 
from  youth  to  old  age,  as  though  they  still  possessed 
their  early  vigor  unimpaired.  Indeed,  they  expect  to  be 
able  to  continue  to  live  as  disorderly  a  life,  after  they 
have  begun  the  descent  of  the  hill,  as  they  did  throughout 
the  years  of  their  youth;  since  they  never  for  a  moment 
consider  that  they  are  approaching  old  age  and  that 
their  constitutions  have  lost  their  former  vigor.  Nor  do 
they  ever  pause  to  reflect  that  their  stomachs  have  lost 
their  natural  heat,  and  that  they  should,  by  reason  of  this 
circumstance,  be  more  careful  with  regard  to  quality  in 
the  selection  of  their  food  and  drink,  and  also  with  regard 
to  the  quantity  thereof,  to  lessen  it  gradually.  But  the 
latter  they  refuse  to  do;  instead  of  which,  they  attempt 
to  augment  it,  claiming— as  an  excuse— that,  since  a  man 
loses  his  strength  with  advancing  age,  the  deficiency 
must  be  made  good  by  a  greater  quantity  of  nourish- 
ment, as  it  is  that  which  keeps  him  alive. 

These    persons,    however,    argue    very    incorrectly. 
For,  as  the  natural  heat  of  man  gradually  diminishes  with 


[105] 


'THE    ART   OF    LIVING   LONG 

the  increase  of  age,  it  becomes  necessary  for  Mm  to 
decrease  gradually,  in  proportion,  the  amount  of  his 
food  and  drink ;  since  nature  requires  very  little  to  main- 
tain the  life  of  an  old  man.  Although  reason  should 
convince  them  that  this  is  the  case,  yet  these  men  refuse  to 
admit  it,  and  pursue  their  usual  life  of  disorder  as  here- 
tofore. Were  they  to  act  differently,  abandoning  their 
irregular  habits  and  adopting  orderly  and  temperate 
ones,  they  would  live  to  old  age— as  I  have— in  good  con- 
dition. Being,  by  the  grace  of  God,  of  so  robust  and 
perfect  constitutions,  they  would  live  until  they  reached 
the  age  of  a  hundred  and  twenty,  as  history  points  out 
to  us  that  others— born,  of  course,  with  perfect  constitu- 
tions—have done,  who  led  the  temperate  life. 

I  am  certain  I,  too,  should  live  to  that  age,  had  it 
been  my  good  fortune  to  receive  a  similar  blessing  at  my 
birth;  but,  because  I  was  born  with  a  poor  constitution, 
I  fear  I  shall  not  live  much  beyond  a  hundred  years.  Yet 
all  those  who  are  born  delicate,  like  myself,  would  no 
doubt  reach,  in  perfect  health,  the  age  of  a  hundred  and 
more  years,— as  I  feel  will  be  the  case  with  me,— were 
they  to  embrace  the  temperate  life  as  I  have  done. 

This  certainty  of  being  able  to  live  for  many  years 
seems  to  me  of  great  value.  Indeed,  it  should  be  highly 
prized ;  since  no  man  can  be  sure  of  even  one  single  hour 
of  existence  unless  he  be  one  of  those  who  follow  the 
temperate  life.  These  alone  have  solid  ground  for  their 
hopes  of  a  long  life— hopes  founded  upon  good  and  true 
natural  reasons  which  have  never  been  known  to  fail. 
For  it  is  impossible,  in  the  regular  course  of  nature,  that 
he  who  leads  the  orderly  and  temperate  life  should  ever 
fall  sick;  nor,  though  death  is  eventually  certain,  need 
he  ever  die  a  premature  or  an  unnatural  death.  It  is 
not  possible  that  he  should  die  earlier  than  is  occasioned 


[106] 


LOUIS    COKNAEO'S    TREATISE 

by  the  natural  failure  of  the  body ;  for  the  temperate  life 
has  the  power  to  remove  every  cause  of  sickness;  and 
without  a  cause,  sickness  cannot  develop.  When  the 
cause  is  removed,  sickness  likewise  is  removed;  and  sick- 
ness being  removed,  an  unnatural  death  is  out  of  the 
question. 

It  is  beyond  doubt  that  the  orderly  and  temperate 
life  has  the  power  and  strength  to  remove  the  causes 
of  illness;  for  it  is  that  which  changes,  for  the  better, 
the  humors  of  the  body  upon  which— according  as  they 
are  good  or  bad— man's  health  or  sickness,  life  or  death, 
depends.  If  these  humors  were  bad,  the  temperate  life 
has  the  natural  power  to  make  them  better  and,  in  time, 
perfect;  and,  being  able  to  make  them  so,  it  has  the 
further  power  to  maintain,  equalize,  and  unite  them  so 
that  they  cannot  become  separated,  agitated,  or  altered, 
and  cause  cruel  fevers  and,  finally,  death. 

It  is  true,  however,— and  this  no  one  can  reasonably 
deny,— that  even  though  they  be  made  ever  so  good,  yet, 
as  time  progresses,  consuming  all  things,  these  humors 
of  the  body  will  also  be  consumed  and  dissolved  at  last. 
When  they  are  thus  dissolved,  man  must  die  a  natural 
death,— without  pain  or  illness,— just  as,  in  the  course 
of  time,  I  shall  pass  away  when  the  humors  of  my  body 
shall  be  finally  consumed. 

They  are  now,  however,  all  in  good  condition.  It 
is  not  possible  they  should  be  otherwise ;  for  I  am  healthy, 
cheerful,  and  contented;  my  appetite  is  so  good  that  I 
always  eat  with  relish;  my  sleep  is  sweet  and  peaceful; 
and,  moreover,  all  my  faculties  are  in  a  condition  as 
perfect  as  ever  they  were;  my  mind  is  more  than  ever 
keen  and  clear;  my  judgment  sound;  my  memory  tena- 
cious; my  heart  full  of  life;  and  my  voice— that  which  is 
wont  to  be  the  first  thing  in  man  to  fail— is  so  strong  and 


[107] 


THE   AUT   OF   LIVING   LONG 

sonorous  that,  in  consequence,  I  am  obliged  to  sing  aloud 
my  morning  and  evening  prayers,  which  I  had  formerly 
been  accustomed  to  say  in  a  low  and  hushed  tone. 
These  are  true  and  certain  indications  that  the  humors 
of  my  body  are  all  good  and  can  never  be  consumed 
save  by  time  alone,  as  everybody  who  is  well  acquainted 
with  me  declares. 

Oh,  how  glorious  will  have  been  this  life  of  mine !  so 
full  of  all  the  happiness  that  can  be  enjoyed  in  this  world, 
and  so  free— as  it  truly  is— from  the  tyranny  of  sensu- 
ality, which,  thanks  to  my  many  years,  has  been  driven 
out  by  reason!  For,  where  reason  reigns,  no  place  is 
left  for  sensuality,  nor  for  its  bitter  fruits,  the  passions 
and  anxieties  of  the  mind  accompanied  by  a  well-nigh 
endless  train  of  afflicting  and  sorrowful  thoughts. 

As  for  the  thought  of  death,  it  can  have  no  place  in 
my  mind;  for  there  is  nothing  sensual  in  me.  Even  the 
death  of  any  of  my  grandchildren,  or  of  any  other  rel- 
atives or  friends,  could  never  cause  me  trouble  except 
the  first  instinctive  motion  of  the  soul,  which,  however, 
soon  passes  away.  How  much  less  could  I  lose  my 
serenity  through  any  loss  of  worldly  wealth!  Many  of 
my  friends  have  witnessed  this  to  their  great  astonish- 
ment. However,  this  is  the  privilege  of  those  only  who 
attain  extreme  age  by  means  of  the  temperate  life  and  not 
merely  through  the  aid  of  a  strong  constitution;  it  is  the 
former,  not  the  latter,  who  enjoy  every  moment  of  life, 
as  I  do,  amid  continual  consolations  and  pleasures. 

And  who  would  not  enjoy  life  at  an  age  when,  as 
I  have  already  shown,  it  is  free  from  the  innumerable 
miseries  by  which  we  all  know  the  younger  ages  are 
afflicted!  How  wholly  mine,  in  its  happiness,  is  free 
from  these  miseries,  I  shall  now  set  forth. 

To  begin,  the  first  of  joys  is  to  be  of  service  to  one's 
beloved   country.      Oh,    what   a   glorious    enjoyment   it 


[108] 


LOUIS   COElsrAEO's   TREATISE 

is,  what  a  source  of  infinite  pleasure  to  me,  that  I  am 
able  to  show  Venice  the  manner  in  which  she  may  pre- 
serve her  valuable  lagoon  and  harbor  so  that  they  will 
not  alter  for  thousands  of  years  to  come !  Thus  she  will 
continue  to  bear  her  wonderful  and  magnificent  name  of 
Virgin  City,  which  indeed  she  is,  there  being  no  other 
like  her  in  all  the  world;  while  her  high  and  noble 
title.  Queen  of  the  Sea,  will,  by  this  means,  become  still 
more  exalted.  I  can  never  fail  to  fully  rejoice  and  take 
great  comfort  in  this. 

There  is  another  thing  which  affords  me  much  con- 
tentment ;  it  is,  that  I  have  shown  this  Virgin  and  Queen 
how  she  may  be  abundantly  supplied  with  food,  by  pre- 
paring for  cultivation— with  returns  much  above  the  ex- 
pense— large  tracts  of  land,  marshes  as  well  as  dry  plains, 
all  hitherto  useless  and  waste. 

Another  sweet  and  unalloyed  satisfaction  I  ex- 
perience is,  that  I  have  pointed  out  to  Venice  how  she 
may  be  made  stronger,  although  she  is  now  so  strong 
as  to  be  almost  impregnable;  how  her  loveliness  may  be 
increased,  although  she  is  now  so  beautiful;  how  she 
may  be  made  richer,  although  now  exceedingly  wealthy; 
and  how  her  air,  which  is  now  so  good,  may  be  made 
perfect. 

These  three  pleasures  afford  me  the  greatest  possible 
satisfaction,  because  based  wholly  upon  my  desire  to 
be  useful  to  others.  And  who  could  find  a  drawback  to 
them,  since  in  reality  none  exists ! 

Having  lost  a  considerable  portion  of  my  income 
through  misfortunes  befallen  my  grandchildren,  it  is 
another  source  of  happiness  to  me  that,  merely  through 
the  activity  of  my  thoughts  which  do  not  sleep,  without 
any  bodily  fatigue,  and  with  but  little  labor  of  the  mind, 
I  found  a  sure  and  unerring  way  of  repairing— yea,  of 


[109] 


THE   AUT   OF   LIVING  LONG 

doubly  remedying— that  loss,  by  means  of  true  and  scien- 
tific farming. 

Yet  one  more  gratification  afforded  me  is  the  abun- 
dant evidence  I  receive  that  my  treatise,  "The  Temper- 
ate Life,"  which  I  composed  to  be  of  service  to  others, 
is  really  doing  much  good.  I  can  entertain  no  doubt  of 
this;  since  some  tell  me,  by  word  of  mouth,  that  they 
have  derived  great  benefit  from  it— and  it  is  evident  they 
have;  while  others  acknowledge  by  letter  that,  after 
God,  it  is  to  me  they  owe  their  very  lives. 

Another  great  consolation  enjoyed  by  me  is  that  of 
writing  with  my  own  hand— and,  to  be  of  use,  I  write  a 
great  deal— on  various  topics,  especially  upon  archi- 
tecture and  agriculture. 

Yet  another  of  my  pleasures  consists  in  having  the 
good  fortune  to  converse  with  various  men  of  fine  and 
high  intellect,  from  whom,  even  at  my  advanced  age,  I 
never  fail  to  learn  something.  Oh,  what  a  delight  it 
is  to  feel  that,  at  this  great  age  of  mine,  it  is  no  labor 
whatsoever  to  learn,  no  matter  how  great,  high,  and  diffi- 
cult the  subjects  may  be! 

Furthermore,  though  it  is  a  thing  which  to  some  may 
seem  impossible  and  in  no  manner  to  be  believed,  I  wish 
to  say  that,  in  this  extreme  age  of  mine,  I  enjoy  two 
lives  at  the  same  time :  one,  the  earthly,  which  I  possess 
in  reality;  the  other,  the  heavenly,  which  I  possess  in 
thought.  For  thought  truly  has  the  power  of  imparting 
happiness  when  it  is  grounded  upon  something  we  are 
confident  we  shall  enjoy,  as  I  do  firmly  hope  and  cer- 
tainly believe  I  shall  enjoy  an  eternal  life  through 
the  infinite  goodness  and  mercy  of  the  great  God.  I  en- 
joy this  earthly  existence  through  the  excellence  of  the 
orderly  and  temperate  life,  which  is  so  pleasing  to  His 
Majesty  because  it  is  full  of  virtue  and  the  enemy  of 
vice.     At  the  same  time  I  rejoice  in  the  heavenly  one. 


[110] 


LOUIS   CORNARO'S  TREATISE 

which  God  has  given  me  now  to  enjoy  in  thought;  for 
He  has  taken  from  me  the  power  to  think  of  it  differently, 
so  sure  am  I  to  possess  it  some  day. 

And  I  hold  that  our  departure  from  this  world  is 
not  death,  but  merely  a  passage  which  the  soul  makes 
from  this  earthly  life  to  the  heavenly  one,  immortal  and 
infinitely  perfect— a  belief  which  I  am  sure  cannot  but 
be  the  true  one. 

Hence  my  thoughts  are  raised  to  heights  so  sublime 
that  they  cannot  descend  to  the  consideration  of  such 
worldly  and  common  occurrences  as  the  death  of  the 
body,  but,  rather,  are  wholly  absorbed  in  living  the 
heavenly  and  divine  life.  In  this  manner  it  comes  to 
pass  that,  as  I  said  before,  I  incessantly  enjoy  two  lives. 
And  I  shall  not  feel  any  regret  on  account  of  the  great 
happiness  I  have  in  this  earthly  life,  when  that  life  shall 
cease;  for  then  my  joy  will  be  boundless,  knowing,  as  I 
do,  that  the  ending  of  this  life  is  but  the  beginning  of 
another,  glorious  and  immortal. 

Who  could  ever  find  weariness  in  a  lot  so  truly 
blessed  and  happy  as  the  one  I  enjoy!  Yet  this  happi- 
ness would  be  the  portion  of  every  man  if  he  would  but 
lead  a  life  similar  to  the  one  I  have  led.  And,  assuredly, 
it  is  in  every  man's  power  to  lead  such  a  life;  for  I  am 
nothing  but  a  man  and  not  a  saint,  only  a  servant  of 
God,  to  Whom  the  orderly  life  is  well-pleasing. 

There  are  many  men  who  embrace  a  holy  and  beau- 
tiful, spiritual  and  contemplative  life,  full  of  prayer. 
Oh,  were  they  faithful  followers  also  of  the  orderly  and 
temperate  life,  how  much  more  pleasing  in  the  sight  of 
God  would  they  render  themselves,  and  how  much  more 
beautiful  would  they  make  the  world!  They  would  be 
esteemed  as  highly  as  were  those,  who,  in  ancient  times, 
added  the  practice  of  the  temperate  life  to  that  of  the 
spiritual. 


[Ill] 


THE   AKT   OF   LIVING  LONG 

Like  them,  they  would  live  to  the  age  of  one  hundred 
and  twenty;  and,  by  the  power  of  God,  they  would  per- 
form countless  miracles,  just  as  those  others  did. 
Furthermore,  they  would  constantly  enjoy  a  healthy, 
happy,  and  cheerful  life ;  whereas  they  are  at  present,  for 
the  greater  part,  unhealthy,  melancholy,  and  dissatisfied. 

Since  some  of  them  believe  that  these  afflictions  are 
sent  them  by  the  great  Grod  for  their  salvation,— that  they 
may,  in  this  life,  make  reparation  for  their  sins, — I  can- 
not refrain  from  saying  that,  according  to  my  judgment, 
these  persons  are  mistaken;  for  I  cannot  believe  God 
deems  it  good  that  man,  whom  He  so  much  loves,  should 
be  sickly,  melancholy,  and  discontented.  I  believe,  on 
the  contrary,  that  He  wishes  him  to  be  healthy,  cheerful, 
and  contented,  precisely  as  those  holy  men  in  ancient 
times  were;  who,  becoming  ever  better  servants  of  His 
Majesty,  performed  the  many  and  beautiful  miracles  of 
which  we  read. 

Oh,  what  a  lovely  and  enjoyable  place  this  world 
would  be— even  more  so  than  it  was  in  the  olden  times ! 
For  there  are  now  many  Orders  which  then  did  not  ex- 
ist, in  which,  if  the  temperate  life  were  followed,  we 
might  see  so  many  venerable  old  men;  and  a  wonderful 
sight  it  would  be.  Nor  would  they,  in  the  practice  of  the 
temperate  life,  deviate  from  the  regular  rules  of  living 
enjoined  by  their  Orders ;  on  the  contrary,  they  would  im- 
prove upon  them.  For  every  Order  allows  its  members, 
in  the  way  of  fare,  to  eat  bread  and  drink  wine,  and,  in 
addition  to  that,  sometimes  to  take  eggs.  Some  Orders 
allow  even  meat,  besides  vegetable  soups,  salads,  fruits, 
and  pastries  made  with  eggs— foods  which  often  harm 
them,  and  to  some  are  a  cause  of  death.  They  make  use  of 
these  because  allowed  to  do  so  by  their  Orders,  thinking, 
perhaps,  they  would  be  doing  wrong  were  they  to  abstain 
from  them.    But  it  would  not  be  wrong  at  all ;  indeed,  they 


[112] 


LOUIS    COKNAEO  S    TEEATISE 

would  act  more  properly,  if,  after  they  have  passed  the 
age  of  thirty,  they  were  to  give  up  the  use  of  such  foods, 
and  live  solely  upon  bread  dipped  in  wine,  bread  soup, 
and  eggs  with  bread— the  true  diet  to  preserve  the  life  of 
a  man  of  poor  constitution.  It  would  be,  after  all,  a  rule 
less  severe  than  that  of  those  holy  men  of  old  in  the 
deserts;  who,  subsisting  entirely  upon  wild  fruits  and 
roots  of  herbs,  and  drinking  nothing  but  pure  water, 
lived,  as  I  have  said,  many  years,  and  were  always 
healthy,  cheerful,  and  contented.  So,  also,  would  these 
of  our  own  day  be,  were  they  to  follow  the  temperate  life. 
And,  at  the  same  time,  they  would  more  easily  find  the 
way  to  ascend  to  heaven,  which  is  always  open  to  every 
faithful  Christian;  for  thus  it  was  our  Redeemer  left  it 
when  He  descended  thence,  coming  upon  earth  that  He 
might  shed  His  precious  blood  to  deliver  us  from  the 
tyrannical  servitude  of  the  devil— all  of  which  He  did 
through  His  infinite  goodness. 

In  conclusion,  I  wish  to  say  that,  since  old  age  is — 
as,  in  truth,  it  is— filled  and  overflowing  with  so  many 
graces  and  blessings,  and  since  I  am  one  of  the  number 
who  enjoy  them,  I  cannot  fail— not  wishing  to  be  wanting 
in  charity— to  give  testimony  to  the  fact,  and  to  fully 
certify  to  all  men  that  my  enjoyment  is  much  greater 
than  I  can  now  express  in  writing.  I  declare  that  I  have 
no  other  motive  for  writing  but  my  hope  that  the 
knowledge  of  so  great  a  blessing  as  my  old  age  has 
proved  to  be,  will  induce  every  human  being  to  deter- 
mine to  adopt  this  praiseworthy  orderly  and  temperate 
life,  in  favor  of  which  I  ceaselessly  keep  repeating,  Live, 
live,  that  you  may  become  better  servants  of  God! 


[113] 


0  Luxury  I    thou  curst  by  Heavens  decree. 
How  ill  exchang'd  are  things  like  these  for  thee! 
How  do  thy  'potions,  with  insidious  joy. 
Diffuse  their  pleasures  only  to  destroy! 
Kingdoms  by  thee,  to  sickly  greatness  grown. 
Boast  of  a  florid  vigor  not  their  own: 
At  eve7'y  draught  more  large  and  large  they  grow, 
A  bloated  mass  of  rank  unwieldy  woe; 
Till  sapp'd  their  strength,  o.nd  every  part  unsound, 
Down,  down  they  sink,  and  spread  a  ruin  round. 

— Oliver  Goldsmith. 


PART     II 


EXTKACTS 

Selected  and  Arranged  from 

LOKD  BACON'S 

"History  or  lite  and  Death" 

AND    FROM 

SIK  WILLIAM  TEMPLE'S 

"Health  and  Long  Liee" 


The  -first  physicians  by  debauch  were  made; 
Excess  began  and  sloth  sustains  the  trade. 
By  chase  our  long-lived  fathers  earnd  their  food; 
Toil  strung  the  nerves,  and  purified  the  blood; 
But  we  their  sons,  a  pamper  d  race  of  men, 
Are  dwindled  down  to  threescore  years  and  ten. 
Better  to  hunt  in  fields  for  health  unbought 
Than  fee  the  doctor  for  a  nauseous  draught. 
The  wise  for  cure  on  exercise  depend: 
God  never  made  his  work  for  man  to  mend. 

— John  Dryden. 


EXTRACTS 


Selected    and    Aeeanged    fkom 


LORD   BACON'S 


"History  or   Lire  and  Death" 


Etc 


T 


o  THE  Peesent  Age,  and  Posterity. 
Greeting  : 


I  have  hope,  and  wish,  that  it  [the  "History 
of  Life  and  Death"]  may  conduce  to  a  common 
good ;  and  that  the  nobler  sort  of  physicians  will  advance 
their  thoughts,  and  not  employ  their  time  wholly  in  the 
sordidness  of  cures;  neither  be  honored  for  necessity 
only;  but  that  they  will  become  coadjutors  and  instru- 
ments of  the  Divine  omnipotence  and  clemency  in  pro- 
longing and  renewing  the  life  of  man.  For  though  we 
Christians  do  continually  aspire  and  pant  after  the  land 

*  See  Note  C 

[117] 


THE    AKT   OF    LIVING   LONG 

of  promise,  yet  it  will  be  a  token  of  God's  favor  toward 
us  in  our  journeyings  through  this  world's  wilderness, 
to  have  our  shoes  and  garments— I  mean  those  of  our 
frail  bodies — little  worn  or  impaired. 

Fk.  St.  Albajsts. 


Men  fear  death,  as  children  fear  to  go  into  the  dark ; 
and  as  that  natural  fear  in  children  is  increased  with 
tales,  so  is  the  other.  Certainly,  the  contemplation  of 
death,  as  the  wages  of  sin,  and  passage  to  another  world, 
is  holy  and  religious ;  but  the  fear  of  it,  as  a  tribute  due 
unto  nature,  is  weak.  It  is  as  natural  to  die  as  to  be  born. 
He  that  dies  in  an  earnest  pursuit,  is  like  one  that  is 
wounded  in  hot  blood ;  who,  for  the  time,  scarce  feels  the 
hurt;  and  therefore  a  mind  fixed  and  bent  upon  some- 
what that  is  good,  doth  avert  the  dolors  of  death.  It  will 
be  hard  to  know  the  ways  of  death,  unless  we  search  out 
and  discover  the  seat  or  house,  or  rather  den,  of  death. 

Truth,  which  only  doth  judge  itself,  teacheth  that 
the  inquiry  of  truth,  which  is  the  love-making  or  wooing 
of  it,  the  knowledge  of  truth,  which  is  the  presence  of  it, 
and  the  belief  of  truth,  which  is  the  enjoying  of  it,  is  the 
sovereign  good  of  human  nature.  Certainly,  it  is  heaven 
upon  earth,  to  have  a  man's  mind  move  in  charity,  rest 
in  providence,  and  turn  upon  the  poles  of  truth. 

Man,  the  servant  and  interpreter  of  nature,  does  and 
understands  as  much  as  he  has  actually  or  mentally 
observed  of  the  order  of  nature— himself,  meanwhile, 
inclosed  around  by  the  laws  of  nature ;  he  neither  knows 
nor  can  do  more.  The  limit,  therefore,  of  human  power 
and  knowledge  is  in  the  faculties,  with  which  man  is 
endowed  by  nature  for  moving  and  perceiving,  as  well 
as  in  the  state  of  present  things.  These  faculties,  though 
of  themselves  weak  and  inept,  are  yet  capable,  when 


[118] 


SELECTIOISrS    FEOM    BACON 

properly  and  regularly  managed,  of  setting  before  the 
judgment  and  use  things  most  remote  from  sense  and 
action,  and  of  overcoming  greater  difficulty  of  works  and 
obscurity  of  knowledge  than  any  one  hath  yet  learned  to 
wish. 

Men  see  clearly,  like  owls,  in  the  night  of  their  own 
notions ;  but,  in  experience,  as  in  the  daylight,  they  wink 
and  are  but  half-sighted.  I  should  wish  to  have  Para- 
celsus and  Severinus  for  criers,  when,  with  such  clamors, 
they  convoke  men  to  the  suggestions  of  experience. 

It  appears  to  me  that  men  know  not  either  their 
acquirements  or  their  powers,  and  trust  too  much  to  the 
former,  and  too  little  to  the  latter.  Hence  it  arises,  that, 
either  estimating  the  arts  they  have  become  acquainted 
with  at  an  absurd  value,  they  require  nothing  more;  or, 
forming  too  low  an  opinion  of  themselves,  they  waste 
their  powers  on  trivial  objects,  without  attempting  any- 
thing to  the  purpose.  The  sciences  have  thus  their  own 
pillars,  fixed  as  it  were  by  fate ;  since  men  are  not  roused 
to  penetrate  beyond  them  either  by  zeal  or  hope.  All 
sciences  seem,  even  now,  to  flourish  most  in  their  first 
authors— Aristotle,  Galen,  Euclid,  and  Ptolemy;  succes- 
sion having  not  effected,  nay,  barely  attempted,  any  great 
matter.  Men,  therefore,  are  to  be  admonished  to  rouse 
up  their  spirits,  and  try  their  strengths  and  turns,  and 
not  refer  all  to  the  opinions  and  brains  of  a  few.  Even 
those  who  have  been  determined  to  try  for  themselves, 
to  add  their  support  to  learning,  and  to  enlarge  its  limits, 
have  not  dared  entirely  to  desert  received  opinions  nor 
to  seek  the  springhead  of  things.  Yet  there  have  not 
been  wanting  some,  who,  with  greater  daring,  have  con- 
sidered everything  open  to  them;  and,  employing  the 
force  of  their  wit,  have  opened  a  passage  for  themselves 
and  their  dogmas  by  prostrating  and  destroying  all 
before  them. 


[119] 


THE   ABT   OF   LIVING  LONG 

Power  to  do  good  is  the  true  and  lawful  end  of 
aspiring;  for  good  thoughts— though  God  accept  them— 
toward  men  are  little  better  than  good  dreams,  except 
they  be  put  in  act. 

The  greatest  trust  between  man  and  man  is  the  trust 
of  giving  counsel.  Heraclitus  saith  well  in  one  of  his 
enigmas,  "Dry  light  is  ever  the  best";  and  certain  it  is, 
that  the  light  that  a  man  receiveth  by  counsel  from 
another,  is  drier  and  purer  than  that  which  cometh  from 
his  own  understanding  and  judgment,  which  is  ever 
infused  and  drenched  in  his  affections  and  customs;  so 
there  is  as  much  difference  between  the  counsel  that  a 
friend  giveth,  and  that  a  man  giveth  himself,  as  there  is 
between  the  counsel  of  a  friend  and  of  a  flatterer;  for 
there  is  no  such  flatterer  as  is  a  man's  self,  and  there  is 
no  such  remedy  against  flattery  of  a  man's  self  as  the 
liberty  of  a  friend.  The  best  preservative  to  keep  the 
mind  in  health  is  the  faithful  admonition  of  a  friend.  It 
is  a  strange  thing  to  behold  what  gross  errors  and 
extreme  absurdities  many  do  commit,  for  want  of  a  friend 
to  tell  them  of  them,  to  the  great  damage  both  of  their 
fame  and  fortune. 

The  help  of  good  counsel  is  that  which  setteth  busi- 
ness straight.  The  wisest  princes  need  not  think  it  any 
diminution  to  their  greatness,  or  derogation  to  their  suf- 
ficiency, to  rely  upon  counsel.  Solomon  hath  pronounced 
that  ''in  counsel  is  stability."  Solomon's  son  found  the 
force  of  counsel,  as  his  father  saw  the  necessity  of  it. 

It  hath  been  noted  that  those  who  ascribe  openly  too 
much  to  their  own  wisdom  and  policy,  end  unfortunate. 
He  that  questioneth  much,  shall  learn  much  and  content 
much— especially  if  he  apply  his  questions  to  the  skill  of 
the  persons  whom  he  asketh ;  for  he  shall  give  them  occa- 
sion to  please  themselves  in  speaking,  and  himself  shall 
continually  gather  knowledge.     Set  before  thee  the  best 


[120] 


SELECTIONS   FEOM   BACON 

examples;  for  imitation  is  a  globe  of  precepts.  Ask 
counsel  of  both  times :  of  the  ancienter  time  what  is  best, 
and  of  the  latter  time  what  is  fittest.  Do  not  drive  away 
such  as  bring  thee  information,  as  meddlers;  but  accept 
of  them  in  good  part.  Always,  when  thou  changest  thine 
opinion  or  course,  profess  it  plainly,  and  declare  it, 
together  with  the  reasons  that  move  thee  to  change. 

This  is  a  true  and  grave  admonition,  that  we  expect 
not  to  receive  things  necessary  for  life  and  manners  from 
philosophical  abstractions,  but  from  the  discreet  obser- 
vation and  experience,  and  the  universal  knowledge,  of 
the  things  of  this  world.  The  shame  it  is,  that  men,  hav- 
ing the  use  of  so  many  arts,  are  not  able  to  get  unto 
themselves  such  things  as  nature  itself  bestows  upon 
many  other  creatures !  Whosoever  doth  thoroughly  con- 
sider the  nature  of  man,  may  be  in  a  manner  the  contriver 
of  his  own  fortune,  and  is  born  to  command. 

It  is  an  ancient  saying  and  complaint,  that  life  is 
short  and  art  long ;  wherefore  it  behooveth  us,  who  make 
it  our  chiefest  aim  to  perfect  arts,  to  take  upon  us  the 
consideration  of  prolonging  man's  life— God,  the  author 
of  all  truth  and  life,  prospering  our  endeavors.  Only 
the  inquiry  is  difficult  how  to  attain  this  blessing  of  long 
life,  so  often  promised  in  the  old  law;  and  so  much  the 
rather,  because  it  is  corrupted  with  false  opinions  and 
vain  reports.  Verily,  it  were  a  great  sin  against  the 
golden  fortune  of  mankind,  the  pledge  of  empire,  for  me 
to  turn  aside  to  the  pursuit  of  most  fleeting  shadows. 
One  bright  and  radiant  light  of  truth  must  be  placed  in 
the  midst,  which  may  illuminate  the  whole,  and  in  a 
moment  dispel  all  errors.  Certain  feeble  and  pale  lamps 
are  not  to  be  carried  round  to  the  several  corners  and 
holes  of  errors  and  falsehoods. 

We  ingeniously  profess  that  some  of  those  things 


[131] 


THE    ART    OF    LIVING   LONG 

which  we  shall  propound,  have  not  been  tried  by  us  by 
way  of  experiment,— for  our  course  of  life  doth  not  per- 
mit that,— but  are  derived,  as  we  suppose,  upon  good 
reasons,  out  of  our  principles  and  grounds,— of  which 
some  we  set  down,  others  we  reserve  in  our  mind, — and 
are,  as  it  were,  cut  and  digged  out  of  the  rock  and  mine 
of  Nature  herself.  Nevertheless,  we  have  been  careful, 
and  that  with  all  providence  and  circumspection,— seeing 
the  Scripture  saith  of  the  body  of  man,  that  it  is  more 
worth  than  raiment,— to  propound  such  remedies  as  may 
at  least  be  safe,  if  peradventure  they  be  not  fruitful. 

All  things  in  living  creatures  are  in  their  youth 
repaired  entirely;  nay,  they  are  for  a  time  increased  in 
quantity,  bettered  in  quality,  so  as  the  matter  of  repara- 
tion might  be  eternal,  if  the  manner  of  reparation  did  not 
fail.  But  this  is  the  truth  of  it :  there  is  in  the  declining 
of  age  an  unequal  reparation.  By  which  it  comes  to 
pass,  that,  in  process  of  time,  the  whole  tends  to  dissolu- 
tion; and  even  those  very  parts  which,  in  their  own 
nature,  are  with  much  ease  reparable,  yet,  through  the 
decay  of  the  organs  of  reparation,  can  no  more  receive 
reparation,  but  decline,  and  in  the  end  utterly  fail.  And 
the  cause  of  the  termination  of  life  is  this:  the  spirits, 
like  a  gentle  flame,  continually  preying  upon  bodies, 
conspiring  with  the  outward  air, — which  is  ever  sucking 
and  drying  of  them,— do,  in  time,  destroy  the  whole 
fabric  of  the  body,  as  also  the  particular  engines  and 
organs  thereof,  and  make  them  unable  for  the  work  of 
reparation.  These  are  the  true  ways  of  natural  death, 
well  and  faithfully  to  be  revolved  in  our  minds;  for  he 
that  knows  not  the  way  of  nature,  how  can  he  succor  her 
or  turn  her  about? 

We  see  the  reign  or  tyranny  of  custom,  what  it  is. 
Men's  thoughts  are  much  according  to  their  inclination; 
their  discourse  and  speeches  according  to  their  learning 


[132] 


SELECTIONS   EKOM    BACOlSr 

and  infused  opinions;  but  their  deeds  are  after  as  they 
have  been  accustomed.  Therefore,  as  Machiavel  well 
noteth,  there  is  no  trusting  to  the  force  of  nature,  nor  to 
the  bravery  of  words,  except  it  be  corroborate  by  custom. 
Nature  is  often  hidden,  sometimes  overcome,  seldom 
extinguished.  But  custom,  only,  doth  alter  and  subdue 
nature.  He  that  seeketh  victory  over  his  nature,  let  him 
not  set  himself  too  great  nor  too  small  tasks ;  for  the  first 
will  make  him  dejected  by  often  failing,  and  the  second 
will  make  him  a  small  proceeder— though  by  often  pre- 
vailing. Where  nature  is  mighty  and,  therefore,  the 
victory  hard,  the  degrees  had  need  be :  first,  to  stay  and 
arrest  nature  in  time— like  to  him  that  would  say  over 
the  four-and-twenty  letters  when  he  was  angry;  then,  to 
go  less  in  quantity— as  if  one  should,  in  forbearing  wine, 
come  from  drinking  healths  to  a  draught  at  a  meal ;  and, 
lastly,  to  discontinue  altogether;  but  if  a  man  have  the 
fortitude  and  resolution  to  enfranchise  himself  at  once, 
that  is  the  best.  But  let  not  a  man  trust  his  victory  over 
his  nature  too  far ;  for  nature  will  lie  buried  a  great  time, 
and  yet  revive  upon  the  occasion,  or  temptation;  like  as 
it  was  with  ^sop's  damsel,  turned  from  a  cat  to  a 
woman,  who  sat  very  demurely  at  the  board's  end  till  a 
mouse  ran  before  her. 

The  predominancy  of  custom  is  everywhere  visible; 
insomuch  as  a  man  would  wonder  to  hear  men  profess, 
protest,  engage,  give  great  words,  and  then  do  just  as 
they  have  done  before,  as  if  they  were  dead  images  and 
engines,  moved  only  by  the  wheels  of  custom.  A  man's 
nature  runs  either  to  herbs  or  weeds;  therefore  let  him 
seasonably  water  the  one,  and  destroy  the  other.  Neither 
is  the  ancient  rule  amiss,  to  bend  nature  as  a  wand  to  a 
contrary  extreme,  whereby  to  set  it  right;  understanding 
it  where  the  contrary  extreme  is  no  vice.  Many  examples 
may  be  put  of  the  force  of  custom,  both  upon  mind  and 


[123] 


THE    AB.T   OF    LIVING   LONG 

body ;  therefore,  since  custom  is  the  principal  magistrate 
of  man's  life,  let  men  by  all  means  endeavor  to  obtain 
good  customs.  Certainly,  custom  is  most  perfect  when 
it  beginneth  in  young  years ;  this  we  call  education,  which 
is,  in  effect,  but  an  early  custom. 

To  procure  long  life,  the  body  of  man  must  be  con- 
sidered. The  ancients  seemed  not  to  despair  of  attaining 
the  skill,  by  means  and  medicines,  to  put  off  old  age,  and 
to  prolong  life;  but  this  to  be  numbered  rather  among 
such  things,  having  been  once  happily  attained  unto,  are 
now— through  men's  negligence  and  carelessness— 
utterly  perished  and  lost,  than  among  such  as  have  been 
always  denied  and  never  granted;  for  they  signify  and 
show  that  the  divine  bounty  is  not  wanting  unto  men  in 
the  obtaining  of  such  gifts.  Surely  every  medicine  is 
an  innovation;  and  he  that  will  not  apply  new  remedies 
must  expect  new  evils ;  for  time  is  the  greatest  innovator. 
And  if  time,  of  course,  alter  things  to  the  worse,  and 
wisdom  and  counsel  shall  not  alter  them  to  the  better, 
what  shall  be  the  end? 

The  nature  of  the  spirits  is  as  the  uppermost  wheel, 
which  turneth  about  the  other  wheels  in  the  body  of  man ; 
and,  therefore,  in  the  intention  of  long  life,  that  ought  to 
be  first  placed.  Age  is  nothing  of  itself,  being  only  the 
measure  of  time;  that  which  causeth  the  effect  is  the 
native  spirit  of  bodies,  which  sucketh  up  the  moisture  of 
the  body,  and  then,  together  with  it,  flieth  forth;  and  the 
air  ambient,  which  multiplieth  itself  upon  the  native 
spirits  and  juices  of  the  body,  and  preyeth  upon  them. 
The  spirits  are  the  master  workmen  of  all  effects  in  the 
body;  this  is  manifest  by  consent,  and  by  infinite 
instances.  The  actions  or  functions  which  are  in  the 
several  members,  follow  the  nature  of  the  members  them- 
selves,—attraction,  retention,  digestion,  assimilation,  sep- 
aration,   excretion,    perspiration,    even    sense    itself,— 


[124] 


SELECTION'S   EEOM   BACON 

according  to  the  propriety  of  the  several  organs ;  yet  none 
of  these  actions  would  ever  have  been  actuated,  but  by 
the  vigor  and  presence  of  the  vital  spirit,  and  heat 
thereof.  The  operation  upon  the  spirits,  and  their  wax- 
ing green  again,  is  the  most  ready  and  compendious  way 
to  long  life. 

It  conduceth  unto  long  life,  and  to  the  more  placid 
motion  of  the  spirits,  which  thereby  do  less  prey  and 
consume  the  juice  of  the  body,  either  that  men's  actions 
be  free  and  voluntary,  or,  on  the  other  side,  that  their 
actions  be  full  of  regulation  and  commands  within  them- 
selves; for  then  the  victory  and  performing  of  the  com- 
mand giveth  a  good  disposition  to  the  spirits,  especially 
if  there  be  a  proceeding  from  degree  to  degree;  for  then 
the  sense  of  the  victory  is  the  greater.  An  example  of 
the  former  of  these  is  in  a  country  life ;  and  of  the  latter 
in  monks  and  philosophers,  and  such  as  do  continually 
enjoin  themselves.  The  spirits,  to  keep  the  body  fresh 
and  green,  are  so  to  be  wrought  and  tempered  that  they 
may  be  in  substance  dense,  not  rare;  in  heat  strong,  not 
eager;  in  quantity  sufficient  for  the  offices  of  life,  not 
redundant  or  turgid ;  in  motion  appeased,  not  dancing  or 
unequal.  It  is  to  be  seen  in  flames,  that  the  bigger  they 
are,  the  stronger  they  break  forth,  and  the  more  speedily 
they  consume.  And,  therefore,  overgreat  plenty,  or 
exuberance  of  the  spirits,  is  altogether  hurtful  to  long 
life ;  neither  need  one  wish  a  greater  store  of  spirits,  than 
what  is  sufficient  for  the  functions  of  life  and  the  office 
of  a  good  reparation. 

The  living  spirit  stands  in  need  of  three  things  that 
it  may  subsist:  convenient  motion,  temperate  refrigera- 
tion, and  fit  aliment.  We  suppose  all  things  in  modera- 
tion to  be  best. 

No  body  can  be  healthy  without  exercise,  neither 
natural  body  nor  politic.     It  is  altogether  requisite  to 


[125] 


THE   AKT    OF   LIVING   LONG 

long  life,  that  the  body  should  never  abide  long  in  one 
posture ;  but  that  every  half-hour,  at  least,  it  change  the 
posture,  saving  only  in  sleep.  As  for  exercise,  an  idle 
life  doth  manifestly  make  the  flesh  soft  and  dissipable; 
robust  exercise,  so  it  be  without  overmuch  sweating  or  • 
weariness,  maketh  it  hard  and  compact.  Also  exercise 
within  cold  water,  as  swimming,  is  very  good;  and,  gen- 
erally, exercise  abroad  is  better  than  that  within  houses. 
Exercises  which  stir  up  a  good  strong  motion,  but  not 
overswift,  or  to  our  utmost  strength,  do  not  hurt,  but 
rather  benefit. 

Men  ought  to  beware  that  they  use  not  exercise  and 
a  spare  diet  both;  but  if  much  exercise,  then  a  plentiful 
diet;  and  if  sparing  diet,  then  little  exercise.  The  bene- 
fits that  come  of  exercise  are :  first,  that  it  sendeth  nour- 
ishment into  the  parts  more  forcibly;  secondly,  that  it 
helpeth  to  excern  by  sweat,  and  so  maketh  the  parts 
assimilate  the  more  perfectly ;  thirdly,  that  it  maketh  the 
substance  of  the  body  more  solid  and  compact,  and  so 
less  apt  to  be  consumed  and  depredated  by  the  spirits. 

That  exercise  may  resolve  either  the  spirits  or  the 
juices  as  little  as  may  be,  it  is  necessary  that  it  be  used 
when  the  stomach  is  not  altogether  empty;  and,  there- 
fore, that  it  may  not  be  used  upon  a  full  stomach,— which 
doth  much  concern  health,— nor  yet  upon  an  empty 
stomach, —which  doth  no  less  concern  long  life,— it  is 
best  to  take  a  breakfast  in  the  morning,  of  plain  meat  and 
drink ;  yet  that  very  light,  and  in  moderate  quantity. 

Both  exercise  and  frications  conduce  much  to  long 
life ;  for  agitation  doth  fineliest  diffuse  and  commix  things 
by  small  portions.  But  in  exercise  and  frications  there 
is  the  same  reason  and  caution,  that  the  body  may  not 
perspire  or  exhale  too  much.  Therefore,  exercise  is 
better  in  the  open  air  than  in  the  house,  and  better  in 
winter  than  in  summer.     Gentle  frications,  and  moderate 


[126] 


SELECTIONS   FEOM   BACON 

exercises,  causing  rather  perspiration  than  sweating, 
conduce  much  to  long  life.  But,  generally,  exercise,  if 
it  be  much,  is  no  friend  to  prolongation  of  life ;  which  is 
one  cause  why  women  live  longer  than  men,  because  they 
stir  less.* 

Refrigeration,  or  cooling  of  the  body,  which  passeth 
some  other  ways  than  by  the  stomach,  is  useful  for  long 
life.  The  reason  is  at  hand:  for  seeing  a  refrigeration 
not  temperate,  but  powerful,— especially  of  the  blood,— 
is  above  all  things  necessary  to  long  life,  this  can  by  no 
means  be  effected  from  within  as  much  as  is  requisite, 
without  the  destruction  of  the  stomach  and  bowels. 

The  body  of  man  doth  regularly  require  renovation 
by  aliment  every  day,  and  a  body  in  health  can  scarce 
endure  fasting  three  days  together;  notwithstanding,  use 
and  custom  will  do  much,  even  in  this  case ;  but  in  sick- 
ness, fasting  is  less  grievous  to  the  body.  We  would 
have  men  rightly  to  observe  and  distinguish,  that  those 
things  which  are  good  for  a  healthful  life,  are  not  always 
good  for  a  long  life ;  for  there  are  some  things  which  do 
further  the  alacrity  of  the  spirits,  and  the  strength  and 
vigor  of  the  functions,  which,  notwithstanding,  do  cut  off 
from  the  sum  of  life.  It  is  hard  to  distinguish  that  which 
is  generally  held  good  and  wholesome,  from  that  which 
is  good  particularly,  and  fit  for  thine  own  body.  It  doth 
no  good  to  have  the  aliment  ready,  in  a  degree  removed, 
but  to  have  it  of  that  kind,  and  so  prepared  and  supplied, 
that  the  spirit  may  work  upon  it ;  for  the  staff  of  a  torch 
alone  will  not  maintain  the  flame,  unless  it  be  fed  with 
wax;  neither  can  men  live  upon  herbs  alone.  Nourish- 
ment ought  to  be  of  an  inferior  nature  and  more  simple 
substances  than  the  thing  nourished.  Plants  are  nour- 
ished with  the  earth  and  water,  living  creatures  with 
plants,  man  with  living  creatures.     There  are  also  cer- 

*  See  Note  A 

[127] 


THE   AET   OF   LIVING  LONG 

tain  creatures  feeding  upon  flesh ;  and  man  himself  takes 
plants  into  a  part  of  his  nourishment. 

The  stomach— which,  as  they  say,  is  the  master  of 
the  house,  and  whose  strength  and  goodness  is  funda- 
mental to  the  other  concoctions— ought  so  to  be  guarded 
and  confirmed  that  it  may  be  without  intemperateness 
hot;  it  is  to  be  kept  ever  in  appetite,  because  appetite 
sharpens  digestion.  This  also  is  most  certain,  that  the 
brain  is  in  some  sort  in  the  custody  of  the  stomach ;  and, 
therefore,  those  things  which  comfort  and  strengthen  the 
stomach,  do  help  the  brain  by  consent.  I  do  verily  con- 
ceive it  good  that  the  first  draught  be  taken  at  supper, 
warm.  I  knew  a  physician  that  was  very  famous;  who, 
in  the  beginning  of  dinner  and  supper,  would  usually  eat 
a  few  spoonfuls  of  very  warm  broth  with  much  greedi- 
ness, and  then  would  presently  wish  that  it  were  out 
again,  saying  he  had  no  need  of  the  broth,  but  only  of 
the  warmth. 

A  pythagorical  or  monastical  diet,  according  to  strict 
rules,  and  always  exactly  equal,— as  that  of  Cornaro 
was,— seemeth  to  be  very  effectual  for  long  life.  If 
there  were  anything  eminent  in  the  Spartans,  that  was  to 
be  imputed  to  the  parsimony  of  their  diet.  It  is  not  more 
true,  that  many  dishes  have  caused  many  diseases,— as 
the  proverb  is,— than  this  is  true,  that  many  mea^jines 
have  caused  few  cures. 

It  seems  to  be  approved  by  experience,  that  a  spare 
diet,  and  almost  a  pythagorical,— such  as  is  either  pre- 
scribed by  the  strict  rules  of  a  monastical  life,  or  prac- 
ticed by  hermits,  which  have  necessity  and  poverty  for 
their  rule,— render eth  a  man  long-lived.  Celsus,  who 
was  not  only  a  learned  physician,  but  a  wise  nan,  is  not 
to  be  omitted,  who  adviseth  interchanging  and  alterna- 
tion of  the  diet,  but  still  with  an  inclination  to  the  more 
benign.     Conservation  of  health  hath  commonly  need  of 


[128] 


SELECTIONS   FROM    BACOlSr 

no  more  than  some  short  courses  of  physic;  but  length 
of  life  cannot  be  hoped  without  an  orderly  diet. 

Curing  of  diseases  is  effected  by  temporary  medi- 
cines; but  lengthening  of  life  requireth  observation  of 
diets.  Those  things  which  come  by  accident,  as  soon  as 
the  causes  are  removed,  cease  again;  but  the  continual 
course  of  nature,  like  a  running  river,  requires  a  con- 
tinual rowing  and  sailing  against  the  stream.  Therefore 
we  must  work  regularly  by  diets.  Now,  diets  are  of  two 
kinds:  set  diets,  which  are  to  be  observed  at  certain 
times ;  and  familiar  diet,  which  is  to  be  admitted  into  our 
daily  repast.  But  the  set  diets  are  the  more  potent;  for 
those  things  which  are  of  so  great  virtue  that  they  are 
able  to  turn  nature  back  again,  are,  for  the  most  part, 
more  strong,  and  more  speedily  altering,  than  those  which 
may  without  danger  be  received  into  a  continual  use. 

Certainly  this  is  without  all  question:  diet,  well 
ordered,  bears  the  greatest  part  in  the  prolongation  of 
life.  But  if  the  diet  shall  not  be  altogether  so  rigorous 
and  mortifying,  yet,  notwithstanding,  shall  be  always 
equal  and  constant  to  itself,  it  worketh  the  same  effect. 
We  see  it  in  flames,  that  a  flame  somewhat  bigger— so  it 
be  always  alike  and  quiet— consumeth  less  of  the  fuel, 
than  a  lesser  flame  blown  with  bellows,  and  by  gusts 
stronger  or  weaker.  That  which  the  regimen  and  diet 
of  Cornaro,  the  Venetian,  showed  plainly;  who  did  eat 
and  drink  so  many  years  together  by  a  just  weight, 
whereby  he  exceeded  a  hundred  years  of  age,  strong  in 
limbs,  and  entire  in  his  senses. 

I  am  of  opinion,  that  emaciating  diseases,  afterward 
well  cured,  have  advanced  many  in  the  way  of  long  life ; 
for  they  yield  new  juice,  the  old  being  consumed ;  and  to 
recover  a  sickness  is  to  renew  youth.  Therefore  it  were 
good  to  make  some  artificial  diseases,  which  is  done  by 
strict  and  emaciating  diets. 


[129] 


THE   ART    OF    LIVING   LONG 

We  see  that  all  things  which  are  done  by  nutrition 
ask  a  long  time;  but  those  which  are  done  by  embracing 
of  the  like— as  it  is  in  infusions— require  no  long  time. 
Therefore,  alimentation  from  without  would  be  of  princi- 
pal use;  and  so  much  the  more,  because  the  faculties  of 
concoction  decay  in  old  age;  so  that  if  there  could  be 
some  auxiliary  nutritions,  by  bathing,  unctions,  or  else 
by  clysters,  these  things  in  conjunction  might  do  much, 
which  single  are  less  available. 

Also,  sleep  doth  supply  somewhat  to  nourishment; 
and,  on  the  other  side,  exercise  doth  require  it  more 
abundantly.  But  as  moderate  sleep  conferreth  to  long 
life,  so  much  more  if  it  be  quiet  and  not  disturbed. 

Assimilation  is  best  done  when  all  local  motion  is 
suspended.  The  act  itself  of  assimilation  is  chiefly  accom- 
plished in  sleep  and  rest,  especially  toward  the  morning, 
the  distribution  being  finished.  Those  that  are  very 
cold,  and  especially  in  their  feet,  cannot  get  to  sleep ;  the 
cause  may  be  that  in  sleep  is  required  a  free  respiration, 
which  cold  doth  shut  in  and  hinder.  Therefore,  we  have 
nothing  else  to  advise  but  that  men  keep  themselves  hot 
in  their  sleep. 

Sleep  is  regularly  due  unto  human  nature  once 
within  four-and-twenty  hours,  and  that  for  six  or  five 
hours  at  the  least;  though  there  are,  even  in  this  kind, 
sometimes  miracles  of  nature;  as  it  is  recorded  of 
Maecenas,  that  he  slept  not  for  a  long  time  before  his 
death.  The  fable  tells  us  that  Epimenides  slept  many 
years  together  in  a  cave,  and  all  that  time  needed  no 
meat ;  because  the  spirits  waste  not  much  in  sleep. 

Some  noises  help  sleep ;  as  the  blowing  of  the  wind, 
the  trickling  of  water,  humming  of  bees,  soft  singing, 
reading,  etc.  The  cause  is  that  they  move  in  the  spirits 
a  gentle  attention;  and  whatsoever  moveth  attention, 
without  too  much  labor,  stilleth  the  natural  and  discursive 


[130] 


SELECTIONS    FEOM    BACON 

motion  of  the  spirits.  Sleep  nourisheth,  or  at  least  pre- 
serveth,  bodies  a  long  time,  without  other  nourishment. 

There  have  some  been  found  who  sustained  them- 
selves—almost to  a  miracle  in  nature— a  very  long  time 
without  meat  or  drink.  Living  creatures  may  subsist 
somewhat  the  longer  without  aliment,  if  they  sleep ;  now, 
sleep  is  nothing  else  but  a  reception  and  retirement  of 
the  living  spirit  into  itself.  Experience  teacheth  us  that 
certain  creatures,  as  dormice  and  bats,  sleep  in  some 
close  places  a  whole  winter  together;  such  is  the  force 
of  sleep  to  restrain  all  vital  consumption.  That  which 
bees  or  drones  are  also  thought  to  do,  though  sometimes 
destitute  of  honey;  and  likewise  butterflies  and  other 
flies.  Beasts  that  sleep  in  winter,— as  it  is  noted  of  wild 
bears,— during  their  sleep  wax  very  fat,  though  they  eat 
nothing.  Bats  have  been  found  in  ovens,  and  other 
hollow  close  places,  matted  one  upon  another ;  and,  there- 
fore, it  is  likely  that  they  sleep  in  the  winter  time,  and 
eat  nothing.  Butterflies,  and  other  flies,  do  not  only 
sleep,  but  lie  as  dead  all  winter ;  and  yet  with  a  little  heat 
of  sun  or  fire,  revive  again.  A  dormouse,  both  winter 
and  summer,  will  sleep  some  days  together,  and  eat 
nothing. 

Sleep  after  dinner — the  stomach  sending  up  no 
unpleasing  vapors  to  the  head,  as  being  the  first  dews  of 
our  meat— is  good  for  the  spirits,  but  derogatory  and 
hurtful  to  all  other  points  of  health.  Notwithstanding, 
in  extreme  old  age  there  is  the  same  reason  of  meat  and 
sleep;  for  both  our  meals  and  our  sleeps  should  be  then 
frequent,  but  short  and  little;  nay,  and  toward  the  last 
period  of  old  age,  a  mere  rest,  and,  as  it  were,  a  perpet- 
ual reposing,  doth  best— especially  in  winter  time. 

To  be  free-minded  and  cheerfully  disposed  at  hours 
of  meat  and  of  sleep  and  of  exercise,  is  one  of  the  best 
precepts  of  long  lasting. 


[131] 


THE   ART   OF   LIVING  LONG 

We  suppose  that  a  good  clothing  of  the  body  maketh 
much  to  long  life;  for  it  fenceth  and  armeth  against  the 
intemperances  of  the  air,  which  do  wonderfully  assail 
and  decay  the  body. 

Above  all  things,  in  youth,  and  for  those  that  have 
sufficiently  strong  stomachs,  it  will  be  best  to  take  a  good 
draught  of  clear  cold  water  when  they  go  to  bed. 

Washing  the  body  in  cold  water  is  good  for  length 
of  life. 

Especially,  care  must  be  taken  that  no  hot  things  be 
applied  to  the  head  outwardly. 

Not  only  the  goodness  or  pureness  of  the  air,  but 
also  the  equality  of  the  air,  is  material  to  long  life.  It 
is  a  secret  that  the  healthfulness  of  air,  especially  in  any 
perfection,  is  better  found  by  experiment  than  by  dis- 
course or  conjecture.  The  country  life  is  well  fitted  for 
long  life;  it  is  much  abroad,  and  in  the  open  air;  it  is 
not  slothful,  but  ever  in  employment.  They  are  longer 
lived,  for  the  most  part,  that  live  abroad  in  the  open  air, 
than  they  that  live  in  houses ;  and  it  is  certain  that  the 
morning  air  is  more  lively  and  refreshing  than  the 
evening  air.  Change  of  air  by  traveling,  after  one  be 
used  unto  it,  is  good ;  and,  therefore,  great  travelers  have 
been  long-lived.  Also  those  that  have  lived  perpetually  in 
a  little  cottage,  in  the  same  place,  have  been  long  livers ; 
for  air  accustomed  consumeth  less,  but  air  changed 
nourisheth  and  repaireth  more. 

The  heart  receiveth  benefit  or  harm  most  from  the 
air  which  we  breathe,  from  vapors,  and  from  the  aifec- 
tions. 

We  must  come  now  to  the  affections  and  passions  of 
the  mind,  and  see  which  of  them  are  hurtful  to  long  life, 
which  profitable. 

Every  noble,  and  resolute,  and — as  they  call  it— 
heroical  desire,  strengtheneth  and  enlargeth  the  powers 


[132] 


SELECTIONS   FROM   BACON 

of  the  heart.  Goodness  I  call  the  habit,  and  goodness 
of  nature  the  inclination.  This,  of  all  virtues  and  dig- 
nities of  the  mind,  is  the  greatest,  being  the  character 
of  the  Deity ;  and  without  it,  man  is  a  busy,  mischievous, 
wretched  thing,  no  better  than  a  kind  of  vermin. 

Hope  is  the  most  beneficial  of  all  the  affections,  and 
doth  much  to  the  prolongation  of  life,  if  it  be  not  too 
often  frustrated,  but  entertaineth  the  fancy  with  an 
expectation  of  good;  therefore,  they  which  fix  and  pro- 
pound to  themselves  some  end,— as  the  mark  and  scope  of 
their  life,— and  continually  and  by  degrees  go  forward 
in  the  same,  are,  for  the  most  part,  long-lived. 

Admiration  and  light  contemplation  are  very  power- 
ful to  the  prolonging  of  life ;  for  they  hold  the  spirits  in 
such  things  as  delight  them,  and  suffer  them  not  to 
tumultuate,  or  to  carry  themselves  unquietly  and  way- 
wardly.  Therefore,  all  the  contemplators  of  natural 
things,  which  had  so  many  and  eminent  objects  to  admire, 
were  long-lived. 

Action,  endeavor,  and  labor,  undertaken  cheerfully 
and  with  a  good  will,  doth  refresh  the  spirits;  but  with 
an  aversation  and  unwillingness,  doth  fret  and  deject 
them.  Therefore  it  conferreth  to  long  life,  either  that  a 
man  hath  the  art  to  institute  his  life  so  as  it  may  be  free 
and  suitable  to  his  own  humor,  or  else  to  lay  such  a  com- 
mand upon  his  mind,  that  whatsoever  is  imposed  by  for- 
tune, it  may  rather  lead  him  than  drag  him. 

No  doubt  it  furthereth  long  life,  to  have  all  things 
from  our  youth  to  our  elder  age  mend  and  grow  to  the 
better;  that  a  youth  full  of  crosses  may  minister  sweet- 
ness to  our  old  age. 

One  thing,  above  all,  is  grateful  to  the  spirits :  that 
there  be  a  continual  progress  to  the  more  benign. 
Therefore  we  should  lead  such  a  youth  and  manhood, 
that  our  old  age  should  find  new  solaces,  whereof  the 


[133] 


THE   AKT    OF    LIVING   L0N"G 

chief  is  moderate  ease;  and,  therefore,  old  men  in  hon- 
orable places  lay  violent  hands  upon  themselves,  who 
retire  not  to  their  ease.  But  this  thing  doth  require  two 
cautions:  one,  that  they  drive  not  off  till  their  bodies 
be  utterly  worn  out  and  diseased,  for  in  such  bodies  all 
mutation,  though  to  the  more  benign,  hasteneth  death; 
the  other,  that  they  surrender  not  themselves  to  a  slug- 
gish ease,  but  that  they  embrace  something  which  may 
entertain  their  thoughts  and  mind  with  contentation. 

Ficino  saith— not  unwisely— that  old  men,  for  the 
comforting  of  their  spirits,  ought  often  to  remember  and 
ruminate  upon  the  acts  of  their  childhood  and  youth. 
Certainly,  such  a  remembrance  is  a  kind  of  peculiar 
recreation  to  every  old  man ;  and,  therefore,  it  is  a  delight 
to  men  to  enjoy  the  society  of  them  which  have  been 
brought  up  together  with  them,  and  to  visit  the  places 
of  their  education.  Vespasian  did  attribute  so  much  to 
this  matter,  that,  when  he  was  emperor,  he  would  by  no 
means  be  persuaded  to  leave  his  father's  house,— though 
but  mean,— lest  he  should  lose  the  wonted  object  of  his 
eyes  and  the  memory  of  his  childhood.  And,  besides, 
he  would  drink  in  a  wooden  cup  tipped  with  silver,  which 
was  his  grandmother's,  upon  festival  days. 

The  spirits  are  delighted  both  with  wonted  things 
and  with  new.  Now,  it  maketh  wonderfully  to  the  con- 
servation of  the  spirits  in  vigor,  that  we  neither  use 
wonted  things  to  a  satiety  and  glutting,  nor  new  things 
before  a  quick  and  strong  appetite.  Therefore,  both 
customs  are  to  be  broken  off  with  judgment  and  care, 
before  they  breed  a  fullness ;  and  the  appetite  after  new 
things  to  be  restrained  for  a  time,  until  it  grow  more 
sharp  and  jocund.  Moreover,  the  life,  as  much  as  may 
be,  is  so  to  be  ordered,  that  it  may  have  many  renova- 
tions; and  the  spirits,  by  perpetual  conversing  in  the 
same  actions,  may  not  wax  dull.     For  though  it  were  no 


[IS^] 


SELECTIONS   FROM   BACON" 

ill  saying  of  Seneca's,  "The  fool  doth  ever  begin  to 
live";  yet  this  folly,  and  many  more  such,  are  good  for 
long  life. 

It  is  to  be  observed  touching  the  spirits,— though 
the  contrary  used  to  be  done,— that  when  men  perceive 
their  spirits  to  be  in  good,  placid,  and  healthful  state,— 
that  which  will  be  seen  by  the  tranquillity  of  their  mind, 
and  cheerful  disposition,— that  they  cherish  them,  and 
not  change  them;  but  when  in  a  turbulent  and  untoward 
state, — which  will  also  appear  by  their  sadness,  lumpish- 
ness,  and  other  indisposition  of  their  mind,— that  then 
they  straight  overwhelm  them  and  alter  them.  Now,  the 
spirits  are  contained  in  the  same  state  by  a  restraining 
of  the  affections,  temperateness  of  diet,  moderation  in 
labor,  indifferent  rest  and  respose;  and  the  contrary  to 
these  do  alter  and  overwhelm  the  spirits;  as,  namely, 
vehement  affections,  profuse  feastings,  difficult  labors, 
earnest  studies,  and  prosecution  of  business.  Yet  men 
are  wont,  when  they  are  merriest  and  best  disposed,  then 
to  apply  themselves  to  feastings,  labors,  endeavors,  busi- 
ness; whereas,  if  they  have  a  regard  to  long  life,— which 
may  seem  strange,— they  should  rather  practice  the  con- 
trary. For  we  ought  to  cherish  and  preserve  good 
spirits;  and  for  the  evil-disposed  spirits,  to  discharge 
and  alter  them. 

Grief  and  sadness,  if  it  be  void  of  fear,  and  afflict 
not  too  much,  doth  rather  prolong  life. 

Great  joys  attenuate  and  diffuse  the  spirits,  and 
shorten  life.  Great  fears,  also,  shorten  life;  for  though 
grief  and  fear  do  both  strengthen  the  spirits,  yet  in  grief 
there  is  a  simple  contraction;  but  in  fear,  by  reason  of 
the  cares  taken  for  the  remedy,  and  hopes  intermixed, 
there  is  a  turmoil  and  vexing  of  the  spirits. 

Whosoever  is  out  of  patience,  is  out  of  possession 
of  his  soul. 


[135] 


THE   AET   OP    LIVING   LONG 

Envy  is  the  worst  of  all  passions,  and  feedeth  upon 
the  spirits,  and  they  again  upon  the  body.  Of  all  affec- 
tions, envy  is  the  most  importune  and  continual;  there- 
fore it  was  well  said,  ''Envy  keeps  no  holidays,"  for  it 
is  ever  working  upon  some  or  other.  It  is  also  the  vilest 
affection,  and  the  most  depraved;  for  which  cause  it  is 
the  proper  attribute  of  the  devil,  who  is  called  "The 
envious  man,  that  soweth  tares  amongst  the  wheat  by 
night. ' ' 

Certainly,  the  more  a  man  drinketh  of  the  world,  the 
more  it  intoxicateth.  I  cannot  call  riches  better  than  the 
baggage  of  virtue.  The  Roman  word  is  better,  ' '  impedi- 
menta"; for  as  the  baggage  is  to  an  army,  so  is  riches 
to  virtue ;  it  cannot  be  spared  nor  left  behind,  but  it  hin- 
dereth  the  march;  yea,  and  the  care  of  it  sometimes 
loseth  or  disturbeth  the  victory. 

It  is  most  certain,  that  passions  always  covet  and 
desire  that  which  experience  forsakes.  And  they  all 
know,  who  have  paid  dear  for  serving  and  obeying  their 
lusts,  that  whether  it  be  honor,  or  riches,  or  delight,  or 
glory,  or  knowledge,  or  anything  else,  which  they  seek 
after;  yet  are  they  but  things  cast  off,  and,  by  divers 
men  in  all  ages,  after  experience  had,  utterly  rejected 
and  loathed. 

There  is  a  wisdom  in  this  beyond  the  rules  of 
physic:  a  man's  own  observation,  what  he  finds  good  of, 
and  what  he  finds  hurt  of,  is  the  best  physic  to  preserve 
health.  But  it  is  a  safer  conclusion  to  say,  ' '  This  agreeth 
not  well  with  me,  therefore  I  will  not  continue  it";  than 
this,  "I  find  no  offense  of  this,  therefore  I  may  use  it"; 
for  strength  of  nature  in  youth  passeth  over  many  ex- 
cesses which  are  owing  a  man  till  his  age.  Discern  of  the 
coming  on  of  years,  and  think  not  to  do  the  same  things 
still;  for  age  will  not  be  defied.  Beware  of  sudden 
change  in  any  great  point  of  diet,  and,  if  necessity  enforce 

[136] 


SELECTIONS   FROM    BACON 

it,  fit  the  rest  to  it;  for  it  is  a  secret  both  in  nature  and 
state,  that  it  is  safer  to  change  many  things  than  one. 
Examine  thy  customs  of  diet,  sleep,  exercise,  apparel, 
and  the  like;  and  try,  in  anything  thou  shalt  judge 
hurtful,  to  discontinue  it  by  little  and  little. 

Entertain  hopes;  mirth  rather  than  joy;  variety  of 
delights,  rather  than  surfeit  of  them;  wonder  and 
admiration,  and  therefore  novelties ;  studies  that  fill  the 
mind  with  splendid  and  illustrious  objects,  as  histories, 
fables,  and  contemplations  of  nature.  If  you  fly  physic 
in  health  altogether,  it  will  be  too  strange  for  your  body 
when  you  shall  need  it;  if  you  make  it  too  familiar,  it 
will  work  no  extraordinary  effect  when  sickness  cometh. 
Despise  no  new  accident  in  your  body,  but  ask  opinion 
of  it.  In  sickness,  respect  health  principally;  and  in 
health,  action;  for  those  that  put  their  bodies  to  endure 
in  health,  may,  in  most  sicknesses  which  are  not  very 
sharp,  be  cured  only  with  diet  and  tendering. 

Physicians  are  some  of  them  so  pleasing  and  con- 
formable to  the  humor  of  the  patient,  as  they  press  not 
the  true  cure  of  the  disease;  and  some  others  are  so 
regular  in  proceeding  according  to  art  for  the  disease, 
as  they  respect  not  sufficiently  the  condition  of  the 
patient.  Take  one  of  a  middle  temper;  or,  if  it  may 
not  be  found  in  one  man,  combine  two  of  either  sort; 
and  forget  not  to  call  as  well  the  best  acquainted  with 
your  body,  as  the  best  reputed  of  for  his  faculty. 

Touching  the  length  and  shortness  of  life  in  living 
creatures,  the  information  which  may  be  had  is  but 
slender,  observation  negligent,  and  tradition  fabulous. 
In  tame  creatures,  their  degenerate  life  corrupteth  them ; 
in  wild  creatures,  their  exposing  to  all  weathers  often 
intercepteth  them. 

Man's  age,  as  far  as  can  be  gathered  by  any  certain 
narration,    doth    exceed    the    age    of    all    other    living 


[137] 


THE   ART   OF   LIVING   LONG 

creatures,  except  it  be  of  a  very  few  only.  No  doubt 
there  are  times  in  every  country  wherein  men  are  longer 
or  shorter  lived:  longer,  for  the  most  part,  when  they 
fare  less  deliciously,  and  are  more  given  to  bodily  exer- 
cises ;  shorter,  when  they  abandon  themselves  to  luxury 
and  ease.  The  countries  which  have  been  observed  to 
produce  long  livers  are  these:  Arcadia,  ^tolia,  India 
on  this  side  Ganges,  Brazil,  Taprobane  [Ceylon],  Britain, 
Ireland,  with  the  islands  of  the  Orcades  [Orkneys]  and 
Hebrides.  We  read  that  the  Esseans  [Essenes],  amongst 
the  Jews,  did  usually  extend  their  life  to  a  hundred 
years.  Now,  that  sect  used  a  single  or  abstemious  diet, 
after  the  rule  of  Pythagoras.  The  monks  and  hermits, 
which  fed  sparingly,  and  upon  dry  aliment,  attained 
commonly  to  a  great  age.  Amongst  the  Venetians  there 
have  been  found  not  a  few  long  livers,  and  those  of  the 
more  eminent  sort:  Francis  Donato,  Duke;  Thomas 
Contarini,  Procurator  of  St.  Mark;  and  others.  But 
most  memorable  is  Cornaro  the  Venetian;  who,  being 
in  his  youth  of  a  sickly  body,  began  first  to  eat  and  drink 
by  measure  to  a  certain  weight,  thereby  to  recover  his 
health;  this  cure  turned  by  use  into  a  diet;  that  diet  to 
an  extraordinary  long  life,  even  of  a  hundred  years  and 
better,  without  any  decay  in  his  senses,  and  with  a  con- 
stant enjoying  of  his  health. 

Being  admonished  by  Aristotle's  observation  touch- 
ing plants,  that  the  putting  forth  of  new  shoots  and 
branches  refresheth  the  body  of  the  tree  in  the  passage; 
we  conceive  the  like  reason  might  be,  if  the  flesh  and 
blood  in  the  body  of  man  were  often  renewed,  that 
thereby  the  bones  themselves,  and  membranes,  and  other 
parts,— which  in  their  own  nature  are  less  reparable,— 
partly  by  the  cheerful  passage  of  the  juices,  partly  by 
that  new  clothing  of  the  young  flesh  and  blood,  might 
be  watered  and  renewed.     If  any  man  could  procure 


[138] 


SELECTIONS   FROM   BACON 

that  a  young  man's  spirit  could  be  conveyed  into  an  old 
man's  body,  it  is  not  unlikely  but  this  great  wheel  of  the 
spirits  might  turn  about  the  lesser  wheels  of  the  parts, 
and  so  the  course  of  nature  become  retrograde.  The 
spirit,  if  it  be  not  irritated  by  the  antipathy  of  the  body 
inclosing  it,  nor  fed  by  the  overmuch  likeness  of  that 
body,  nor  solicited  nor  invited  by  the  external  body, 
makes  no  great  stir  to  get  out. 

We  denounce  unto  men  that  they  will  give  over 
trifling,  and  not  imagine  that  so  great  a  work  as  the 
stopping  and  turning  back  the  powerful  course  of  nature 
can  be  brought  to  pass  by  some  morning  draught,  or  the 
taking  of  some  precious  drug;  but  that  they  would  be 
assured  that  it  must  needs  be  that  this  is  a  work  of  labor, 
and  consisteth  of  many  remedies,  and  a  fit  connection  of 
them  amongst  themselves. 

If  a  man  perform  that  which  hath  not  been  attempted 
before,  or  attempted  and  given  over,  or  hath  been 
achieved,  but  not  with  so  good  circumstance,  he  shall 
purchase  more  honor  than  by  affecting  a  matter  of 
greater  difficulty,  or  virtue,  wherein  he  is  but  a  follower. 

Experience,  no  doubt,  will  both  verify  and  promote 
these  matters.  And  such,  in  all  things,  are  the  works 
of  every  prudent  counsel,  that  they  are  admirable  in  their 
effects. 


[139] 


Yolwptuous  man 
Is  by  superior  faculties  misled; 
Misled  from  pleasure  even  in  quest  of  joy. 
Sated  with  Nature's  boons,  what  thousands  seek. 
With  dishes  tortur'd  from  their  native  taste. 
And  mad  variety,  to  spur  beyond 
Its  wiser  will  the  jaded  appetite! 
Is  this  for  pleasured     Learn  a  juster  taste! 
And  know  that  temperance  is  true  luxury. 

Know,  whatever 
Beyond  its  natural  fervor  hurries  on 
The  sanguine  tide;  whether  the  frequent  bowl. 
High-season  d  fare,  or  exercise  to  toil 
Protracted;  spurs  to  its  last  stage  tired  life. 
And  sows  the  temples  with  untimely  snow. 

— John  Armstrong. 


EXTRACTS 


Selected  and  Arranged  from 


SIR  WILLIAM  TEMPLE'S 


"Health  and  Long  Lire" 


Etc. 


I  can  truly  say,  that,  of  all  the  paper  I  have  blotted, 
which  has  been  a  great  deal  in  my  time,  I  have  never 

written  anything  for  the  public  without  the  intention 
of  some  public  good.  Whether  I  have  succeeded,  or  no, 
is  not  my  part  to  judge;  and  others,  in  what  they  tell 
me,  may  deceive  either  me  or  themselves.  Good  inten- 
tions are  at  least  the  seed  of  good  actions;  and  every 
man  ought  to  sow  them,  and  leave  it  to  the  soil  and  the 
seasons  whether  they  come  up  or  no,  and  whether  he  or 
any  other  gathers  the  fruit. 

I  have  chosen  those  subjects  of  these  essays,  wherein 
I  take  human  life  to  be  most  concerned,  and  which  are 

*  See  Note  C 

[141] 


THE   AET    OF    LIVING   LONG 

of  most  common  use,  or  most  necessary  knowledge;  and 
wherein,  though  I  may  not  be  able  to  inform  men  more 
than  they  know,  yet  I  may,  perhaps,  give  them  the  occa- 
sion to  consider  more  than  they  do.  All  men  would  be 
glad  to  be  their  own  masters,  and  should  not  be  sorry 
to  be  their  own  scholars,  when  they  pay  no  more  for 
their  learning  than  their  own  thoughts,  which  they  have 
commonly  more  store  of  about  them  than  they  know  what 
to  do  with.  Of  all  sorts  of  instructions,  the  best  is 
gained  from  our  own  thoughts  as  well  as  experience; 
for  though  a  man  may  grow  learned  by  other  men's 
thoughts,  yet  he  will  grow  wise  or  happy  only  by  his 
own— the  use  of  other  men's  toward  these  ends,  is  but 
to  serve  for  one's  own  reflections. 

Some  writers,  in  casting  up  the  goods  most  desirable 
in  life,  have  given  them  this  rank:  health,  beauty,  and 
riches.  Of  the  first  I  find  no  dispute,  but  to  the  two 
others  much  may  be  said;  for  beauty  is  a  good  that 
makes  others  happy  rather  than  one's  self;  and  how 
riches  should  claim  so  high  a  rank,  I  cannot  tell,  when 
so  great',  so  wise,  and  so  good  a  part  of  mankind  have, 
in  all  ages,  preferred  poverty  before  them.  All  the 
ancient  philosophers— whatever  else  they  differed  in- 
agreed  in  this  of  despising  riches,  and  at  best  esteeming 
them  an  unnecessary  trouble  or  encumbrance  of  life;  so 
that  whether  they  are  to  be  reckoned  among  goods  or 
evils  is  yet  left  in  doubt. 

The  two  great  blessings  of  life  are,  in  my  opinion, 
health  and  good  humor;  and  none  contribute  more  to 
one  another.  Without  health,  all  will  allow  life  to  be 
but  a  burden;  and  the  several  conditions  of  fortune  to 
be  all  wearisome,  dull,  or  disagreeable,  without  good 
humor;  nor  does  any  seem  to  contribute  toward  the 
true  happiness  of  life,  but  as  it  serves  to  increase  that 


[142] 


SELECTIOISrS    FROM    TEMPLE 

treasure,  or  to  preserve  it.  Whatever  other  differences 
are  conunonly  apprehended  in  the  several  conditions  of 
fortune,  none,  perhaps,  will  be  found  so  true  or  so  great 
as  what  is  made  by  those  two  circumstances,  so  little 
regarded  in  the  common  course  or  pursuits  of  mortal 
men. 

Health  in  the  body  is  like  peace  in  the  State  and 
serenity  in  the  air.  Health  is  the  soul  that  animates  all 
enjoyments  of  life,  which  fade  and  are  tasteless,  if  not 
dead,  without  it.  A  man  starves  at  the  best  and  the 
greatest  tables,  and  is  poor  and  wretched  in  the  midst 
of  the  greatest  treasures  and  fortunes.  With  common 
diseases,  strength  grows  decrepit;  youth  loses  all  vigor, 
and  beauty  all  charms ;  music  grows  harsh,  and  conversa- 
tion disagreeable;  palaces  are  prisons,  or  of  equal  con- 
finement; riches  are  useless;  honor  and  attendance  are 
cumbersome ;  and  crowns  themselves  are  a  burden.  But 
if  diseases  are  painful  and  violent,  they  equal  all  con- 
ditions of  life,  and  make  no  difference  between  a  prince 
and  a  beggar.  The  vigor  of  the  mind  decays  with  that 
of  the  body,  and  not  only  humor  and  invention,  but  even 
judgment  and  resolution,  change  and  languish  with  ill 
constitution  of  body  and  of  health;  and,  by  this  means, 
public  business  comes  to  suffer  by  private  infirmities, 
and  Kingdoms  or  States  fall  into  weaknesses  and  dis- 
tempers or  decays  of  those  persons  that  manage  them. 
I  have  seen  the  counsels  of  a  noble  country  grow  bold 
or  timorous,  according  to  the  fits  of  his  good  or  ill  health 
that  managed  them;  and  the  pulse  of  the  government 
beat  high  or  low  with  that  of  the  governor.  Thus,  acci- 
dents of  health  grow  to  be  accidents  of  State ;  and  public 
constitutions  come  to  depend,  in  a  great  measure,  upon 
those  of  particular  men. 

To  know  that  the  passions  or  distempers  of  the  mind 


[143] 


THE   ART    OF    LIVING   LONG 

make  our  lives  unhappy,  in  spite  of  all  accidents  and 
favors  of  fortune,  a  man,  perhaps,  must  be  a  philosopher 
and  requires  much  thought,  and  study,  and  deep  reflec- 
tions. To  be  a  Stoic,  and  grow  insensible  of  pain,  as 
well  as  poverty  or  disgrace,  one  must  be,  perhaps,  some- 
thing more  or  less  than  a  man,  renounce  common  nature, 
oppose  common  truth  and  constant  experience.  But 
there  needs  little  learning  or  study,  more  than  common 
thought  and  observation,  to  find  out  that  ill  health  loses 
not  only  the  enjoyments  of  fortune,  but  the  pleasures  of 
sense,  and  even  of  imagination;  and  hinders  the  com- 
mon operations  both  of  body  and  mind  from  being  easy 
and  free.  Let  philosophers  reason  and  differ  about  the 
chief  good  or  happiness  of  man;  let  them  find  it  where 
they  can,  and  place  it  where  they  please;  but  there  is 
no  mistake  so  gross,  or  opinion  so  impertinent, — how 
common  soever,— as  to  think  pleasures  arise  from  what 
is  without  us,  rather  than  from  what  is  within. 

But  to  leave  philosophy,  and  return  to  health. 
Whatever  is  true  in  point  of  happiness  depending  upon 
the  temper  of  the  mind,  'tis  certain  that  pleasures  depend 
upon  the  temper  of  the  body;  and  that,  to  enjoy  them, 
a  man  must  be  well  himself.  Men  are  apt  to  play  with 
their  health  and  their  lives,  as  they  do  with  their  clothes. 
To  find  any  felicity,  or  take  any  pleasure  in  the  greatest 
advantages  of  honor  and  fortune,  a  man  must  be  in 
health.  Who  would  not  be  covetous,  and  with  reason,  if 
this  could  be  purchased  with  gold?  who  not  ambitious, 
if  it  were  at  the  command  of  power,  or  restored  by 
honor  1  But,  alas !  a  white  staff  will  not  help  gouty  feet 
to  walk  better  than  a  common  cane;  nor  a  blue  ribbon 
bind  up  a  wound  so  well  as  a  fillet;  the  glitter  of  gold 
or  of  diamonds  will  but  hurt  sore  eyes,  instead  of  curing 
them;  and  an  aching  head  will  be  no  more  eased  by 
wearing  a  crown  than  a  common  nightcap. 


[144] 


SELECTIONS   FROM   TEMPLE 

If  health  be  such  a  blessing,  and  the  very  source  of 
all  pleasure,  it  may  be  worth  the  pains  to  discover  the 
regions  where  it  grows,  the  springs  that  feed  it,  the 
customs  and  methods  by  which  it  is  best  cultivated  and 
preserved.  Toward  this  end,  it  will  be  necessary  to 
consider  the  examples  or  instances  we  meet  with  of 
health,  and  long  life,  which  is  the  consequence  of  it ;  and 
to  observe  the  places,  the  customs,  and  the  conditions  of 
those  who  enjoyed  them  in  any  degree  extraordinary; 
from  whence  we  may  best  guess  at  the  causes,  and  make 
the  truest  conclusions. 

Health  and  long  life  are  usually  blessings  of  the 
poor,  not  of  the  rich ;  and  the  fruits  of  temperance,  rather 
than  of  luxury  and  excess.  And,  indeed,  if  a  rich  man 
does  not,  in  many  things,  live  like  a  poor,  he  will  cer- 
tainly be  the  worse  for  his  riches:  if  he  does  not  use 
exercise,  which  is  but  voluntary  labor;  if  he  does  not 
restrain  appetite  by  choice,  as  the  other  does  by  neces- 
sity; if  he  does  not  practice  sometimes  even  abstinence 
and  fasting,  which  is  the  last  extreme  of  want  and  pov- 
erty. If  his  cares  and  his  troubles  increase  with  his 
riches,  or  his  passions  with  his  pleasures,  he  will  cer- 
tainly impair  in  health,  whilst  he  improves  his  fortunes, 
and  lose  more  than  he  gains  by  the  bargain ;  since  health 
is  the  best  of  all  human  possessions,  and  without  which 
the  rest  are  not  relished  or  kindly  enjoyed. 

It  is  observable  in  story,  that  the  ancient  philoso- 
phers lived  generally  very  long ;  which  may  be  attributed 
to  their  great  temperance,  and  their  freedom  from  com- 
mon passions,  as  well  as  cares,  of  the  world.  The 
Brazilians,  when  first  discovered,  lived  the  most  natural 
original  lives  of  mankind,  so  frequently  described  in 
ancient  countries,  before  laws,  or  property,  or  arts  made 
entrance    among   them;    they  lived  without  business  or 


[145] 


THE   ABT   OF   LIVING   LON^C 

labor,  further  than  for  their  necessary  food,  by  gather- 
ing fruits,  herbs,  and  plants;  they  knew  no  drink  but 
water;  were  not  tempted  to  eat  nor  drink  beyond  com- 
mon thirst  or  appetite;  were  not  troubled  with  either 
public  or  domestic  cares;  nor  knew  any  pleasures  but 
the  most  simple  and  natural.  Many  of  these  were  said, 
at  the  time  that  country  was  discovered  by  the  Europe- 
ans, to  have  lived  two  hundred,  some  three  hundred 
years. 

From  these  examples  and  customs  it  may  probably 
be  concluded,  that  the  common  ingredients  of  health  and 
long  life— where  births  are  not  impaired  from  the  con- 
ception by  any  derived  infirmities  of  the  race  they  come 
from— are  great  temperance,  open  air,  easy  labor,  little 
care,  simplicity  of  diet,  and  water— which  preserves  the 
radical  moisture  without  too  much  increasing  the  radical 
heat;  whereas  sickness,  decay,  and  death  proceed  com- 
monly from  the  one  preying  too  fast  upon  the  other,  and 
at  length  wholly  extinguishing  it. 

I  think  temperance  deserves  the  first  rank  among 
public  virtues,  as  well  as  those  of  private  men ;  and  doubt 
whether  any  can  pretend  to  the  constant,  steady  exercise 
of  prudence,  justice,  or  fortitude,  without  it.  That 
which  I  call  temperance,  is  a  regular  and  simple  diet, 
limited  by  every  man's  experience  of  his  own  easy 
digestion,  and  thereby  proportioning,  as  near  as  well 
can  be,  the  daily  repairs  to  the  daily  decays  of  our  wast- 
ing bodies.  Temperance,  that  virtue  without  pride,  and 
fortune  without  envy!  that  gives  indolence  [repose]  of 
body,  and  tranquillity  of  mind;  the  best  guardian  of 
youth,  and  support  of  old  age;  the  precept  of  reason, 
as  well  as  religion;  the  physician  of  the  soul,  as  well  as 
the  body;  the  tutelar  goddess  of  health,  and  universal 
medicine  of  life;  that  clears  the  head,  and  cleanses  the 


[146] 


SELECTIONS   FKOM    TEMPLE 

blood;  that  strengthens  the  nerves,  enlightens  the  eyes, 
and  comforts  the  heart! 

No  degree  of  temperance  can,  I  think,  be  too  great 
for  the  cure  of  most  diseases  to  which  mankind  is 
exposed,  rather  by  the  viciousness,  than  by  the  frailty, 
of  their  natures— diseases  by  which  we  often  condemn 
ourselves  to  greater  torments  and  miseries  of  life  than 
have,  perhaps,  been  yet  invented  by  anger  or  revenge, 
or  inflicted  by  the  greatest  tyrants  upon  the  worst  of 
men.  I  know  not  whether  some  desperate  degrees  of 
abstinence  would  not  have  the  same  effect  upon  other 
men,  as  they  had  upon  Atticus;  who,  weary  of  his  life 
as  well  as  his  physicians  by  long  and  cruel  pains  of  a 
dropsical  gout,  and  despairing  of  any  cure,  resolved  by 
degrees  to  starve  himself  to  death;  and  went  so  far, 
that  the  physicians  found  he  had  ended  his  disease 
instead  of  his  life. 

For  one  life  that  ends  by  mere  decay  of  nature  or 
age,  millions  are  intercepted  by  accidents  from  without 
or  diseases  within;  by  untimely  deaths  or  decays;  from 
the  effects  of  excess  and  luxury,  immoderate  repletion 
or  exercise.  Men  are,  perhaps,  most  betrayed  to  all 
these  dangers  by  great  strength  and  vigor  of  constitu- 
tion, by  more  appetite  and  larger  fare,  in  colder  cli- 
mates; in  the  warm,  excesses  are  found  more  pernicious 
to  health,  and  so  more  avoided;  and  if  experience  and 
reflection  do  not  cause  temperance  among  them,  yet  it 
is  forced  upon  them  by  the  faintness  of  appetite.  I  can 
find  no  better  account  of  a  story  Sir  Francis  Bacon  tells, 
of  a  very  old  man,  whose  customs  and  diet  he  inquired; 
who  said  he  observed  none  besides  eating  before  he  was 
hungry  and  drinking  before  he  was  dry,  for  by  that 
rule  he  was  sure  never  to  eat  nor  drink  much  at  a  time. 
I  do  not  remember,  either  in  story  or  modern  observa- 


[147] 


THE   ART   OF    LIVING   LONG 

tion,  any  examples  of  long  life  common  to  any  parts  of 
Europe,  which  the  temper  of  the  climate  has  probably 
made  the  scene  of  luxury  and  excesses  in  diet. 

And,  I  doubt,  pleasures  too  long  continued,  or  rather 
too  frequently  repeated,  may  spend  the  spirits,  and 
thereby  life,  too  fast,  to  leave  it  very  long;  like  blowing 
a  fire  too  often,  which  makes  it  indeed  burn  the  better, 
but  last  the  less.  For  as  pleasures  perish  themselves 
in  the  using,— like  flowers  that  fade  with  gathering,— 
so  'tis  neither  natural  nor  safe  to  continue  them  long, 
to  renew  them  without  appetite,  or  ever  to  provoke 
them  by  arts  or  imagination  where  Nature  does  not 
call;  who  can  best  tell  us  when  and  how  much  we  need, 
or  what  is  good  for  us,  if  we  were  so  wise  as  to  consult 
her. 

The  faintness  of  appetite,  especially  in  great  cities, 
makes  the  many  endeavors  to  relieve  and  provoke  it  by 
art,  where  nature  fails.;  and  this  is  one  great  ground  of 
luxury,  and  so  many,  and  various,  and  extravagant 
inventions  to  heighten  and  improve  it;  which  may  serve 
perhaps  for  some  refinement  in  pleasure,  but  not  at  all 
for  any  advantages  of  health  or  of  life.  On  the  con- 
trary, all  the  great  cities,  celebrated  most  by  the  con- 
course of  mankind,  and  by  the  inventions  and  customs 
of  the  greatest  and  most  delicate  luxury,  are  the  scenes 
of  the  most  frequent  and  violent  plagues,  as  well  as 
other  diseases. 

In  the  course  of  common  life,  a  man  must  either 
often  exercise,  or  fast,  or  take  physic,  or  be  sick;  and 
the  choice  seems  left  to  everyone  as  he  likes.  The  first 
two  are  the  best  methods  and  means  of  preserving 
health;  the  use  of  physic  is  for  restoring  it,  and  curing 
those  diseases  which  are  generally  caused  by  the  want 
or  neglect  of  the  others;    but  is  neither  necessary,    nor 


[148] 


SELECTIONS   FKOM    TEMPLE 

perhaps  useful,  for  confirming  health,  or  to  the  length 
of  life,  being  generally  a  force  upon  nature— though  the 
end  of  it  seems  to  be  rather  assisting  nature,  than  oppos- 
ing it  in  its  course.  Nature  knows  her  own  wants  and 
times  so  well,  as  to  need  little  assistance;  leave  her  to 
her  course,  who  is  the  sovereign  physician  in  most 
diseases,  and  leaves  little  for  others  to  do. 

'Tis  true,  physicians  must  be  in  danger  of  losing 
their  credit  with  the  vulgar,  if  they  should  often  tell  a 
patient  he  has  no  need  of  physic,  and  prescribe  only 
rules  of  diet  or  common  use;  most  people  would  think 
they  had  lost  their  fee.  But  the  first  excellence  of  a 
physician's  skill  and  care  is  discovered  by  resolving 
whether  it  be  best  in  the  case  to  administer  any  physic 
or  none— to  trust  to  nature  or  to  art;  and  the  next,  to 
give  such  prescriptions,  as,  if  they  do  no  good,  may  be 
sure  to  do  no  harm. 

In  the  midst  of  such  uncertainties  of  health  and  of 
physic,  for  my  own  part,  I  have,  in  the  general  course 
of  my  life,  trusted  to  God  Almighty ;  to  nature ;  to  tem- 
perance or  abstinence ;  and  the  use  of  common  remedies, 
vulgarly  known  and  approved,  like  proverbs,  by  long 
observation  and  experience,  either  of  my  own,  or  such 
persons  as  have  fallen  in  the  way  of  my  observation  or 
inquiry.  The  best  cares  or  provisions  for  life  and  health 
consist  in  the  discreet  and  temperate  government  of 
diet  and  exercise,  in  both  which  all  excess  is  to  be 
avoided. 

As  hope  is  the  sovereign  balsam  of  life,  and  the  best 
cordial  in  all  distempers  both  of  body  or  mind;  so  fear, 
and  regret,  and  melancholy  apprehensions— with  the 
distractions,  disquiets,  or  at  least  intranquillity,  they 
occasion— are  the  worst  accidents  that  can  attend  any 
diseases;   and   make   them   often  mortal,   which  would 


[149] 


THE   ART   OF    LXVING   LONG 

otherwise  pass,  and  have  had  but  a  common  course.  I 
have  known  the  most  busy  ministers  of  state,  most  for- 
tunate courtiers,  most  vigorous  youths,  most  beautiful 
virgins,  in  the  strength  or  flower  of  their  age,  sink  under 
common  distempers,  by  the  force  of  such  weights,  and 
the  cruel  damps  and  disturbances  thereby  given  their 
spirits  and  their  blood.  'Tis  no  matter  what  is  made 
the  occasion,  if  well  improved  by  spleen  and  melancholy 
apprehensions :  a  disappointed  hope,  a  blot  of  honor,  a 
strain  of  conscience,  an  unfortunate  love,  an  aching 
jealousy,  a  repining  grief,  will  serve  the  turn,  and  all 
alike. 

I  remember  an  ingenious  physician,  who  told  me, 
in  the  fanatic  times,  he  found  most  of  his  patients  so 
disturbed  by  troubles  of  conscience,  that  he  was  forced 
to  play  the  divine  with  them  before  he  could  begin  the 
physician;  whose  greatest  skill,  perhaps,  often  lies  in 
the  infusing  of  hopes,  and  inducing  some  composure  and 
tranquillity  of  mind,  before  he  enters  upon  the  other 
operations  of  his  art.  This  ought  to  be  the  first 
endeavor  of  the  patient,  too;  without  which,  all  other 
medicines  may  lose  their  virtue.  In  all  diseases  of  body 
or  mind,  it  is  happy  to  have  an  able  physician  for  a 
friend,  or  discreet  friend  for  a  physician;  which  is  so 
great  a  blessing,  that  the  wise  man  will  have  it  to  pro- 
ceed only  from  God,  where  he  says :  "A  faithful  friend 
is  the  medicine  of  life,  and  he  that  fears  the  Lord  shall 
find  him." 

Greece,  having  been  the  first  scene  of  luxury  we 
meet  with  in  story,  and  having  thereby  occasioned  more 
diseases,  seemed  to  owe  the  world  that  justice  of  pro- 
viding the  remedies.  Among  the  more  simple  and  orig- 
inal customs  and  lives  of  other  nations  it  entered  late, 
and  was  introduced  by  the  Grecians.    In  ancient  Baby- 


[1501 


SIR   WILLIAM    TEMPLE 
1628—1699 


From  the  painting  by  Sir  Peter  Lely — No.   152,  National  Portrait  Gallery, 

London 

Photograph  copyrighted  by  Walker  and  Cockerell 


SELECTIONS   FKOM    TEMPLE 

Ion — how  great  and  populous  soever— no  physicians 
were  known,  nor  other  methods  for  the  cure  of  diseases, 
besides  abstinence,  patience,  and  domestic  care. 

Whoever  was  accounted  the  god  of  physic,  the  prince 
of  this  science  must  be  by  all,  I  think,  allowed  to  have 
been  Hippocrates,  whose  writings  are  the  most  ancient  of 
any  that  remain  to  posterity.  He  was  a  great  philosopher 
and  naturalist,  before  he  began  the  study  of  physic,  to 
which  both  these  are  perhaps  necessary.  His  rules  and 
methods  continued  in  practice  as  well  as  esteem,  without 
any  dispute,  for  many  ages,  till  the  time  of  Galen ;  and  I 
have  heard  a  great  physician  say,  that  his  aphorisms  are 
still  the  most  certain  and  uncontrolled  of  any  that  science 
has  produced.  I  will  judge  but  of  one,  which,  in  my 
opinion,  has  the  greatest  race  and  height  both  of  sense 
and  judgment  that  I  have  read  in  so  few  words,  and  the 
best  expressed:  ^'Ars  longa,  vita  brevis,  experientia 
fallax,  occasio  prgeceps,  judicium  difficile"  ["Art  is  long, 
life  is  short,  experience  deceptive,  opportunity  sudden, 
decision  difficult"].  By  which  alone,  if  no  more  remained 
of  that  admirable  person,  we  may  easily  judge  how  great 
a  genius  he  was,  and  how  perfectly  he  understood  both 
nature  and  art.  In  the  time  of  Adrian,  Galen  began  to 
change  the  practice  and  methods  of  physic,  derived  to 
that  age  from  Hippocrates;  and  those  of  his  new 
institution  continue  generally  observed  to  our  time.  Yet 
Paracelsus,  about  two  hundred  years  ago,  endeavored  to 
overthrow  the  whole  scheme  of  Galen,  and  introduce  a 
new  one  of  his  own,  as  well  as  the  use  of  chemical 
medicines;  and  has  not  wanted  his  followers  and  ad- 
mirers ever  since. 

I  have,  in  my  life,  met  with  two  of  above  a  hundred 
and  twelve;  whereof  the  woman  had  passed  her  life  in 
service ;  and  the  man,  in  common  labor,  till  he  grew  old, 

[153] 


THE   ART   OF   LIVING  LONG 

and  fell  upon  the  parish.  But  I  met  with  one  who  had 
gone  a  much  greater  length,  which  made  me  more  curious 
in  my  inquiries:  'twas  an  old  man,  who  told  me  he  was 
a  hundred  and  twenty-four  years  old.  I  have  heard,  and 
very  credibly,  of  many  in  my  life,  above  a  hundred  years 
old. 

One  comfort  of  age  may  be,  that,  whereas  younger 
men  are  usually  in  pain,  when  they  are  not  in  pleasure, 
old  men  find  a  sort  of  pleasure,  whenever  they  are  out  of 
pain.  And,  as  young  men  often  lose  or  impair  their 
present  enjoyments,  by  raving  after  what  is  to  come,  by 
vain  hopes,  or  fruitless  fears;  so  old  men  relieve  the 
wants  of  their  age,  by  pleasing  reflections  upon  what  is 
past.  Therefore  men,  in  the  health  and  vigor  of  their 
age,  should  endeavor  to  fill  their  lives  with  the  worthiest 
actions,— either  in  their  public  or  private  stations, —that 
they  may  have  something  agreeable  left  to  feed  on,  when 
they  are  old,  by  pleasing  remembrances.  But,  as  they 
are  only  the  clean  beasts  which  chew  the  cud,  when  they 
have  fed  enough ;  so  they  must  be  clean  and  virtuous  men 
that  can  reflect,  with  pleasure,  upon  the  past  accidents  or 
courses  of  their  lives.  Besides,  men  who  grow  old  with 
good  sense,  or  good  fortunes,  and  good  nature,  cannot 
want  the  pleasure  of  pleasing  others,  by  assisting  with 
their  gifts,  their  credit,  and  their  advice,  such  as 
deserve  it. 

Socrates  used  to  say,  that  'twas  pleasant  to  grow  old 
with  good  health  and  a  good  friend.  But  there  cannot 
indeed  live  a  more  unhappy  creature  than  an  ill-natured 
old  man,  who  is  neither  capable  of  receiving  pleasures, 
nor  sensible  of  doing  them  to  others ;  and,  in  such  a  con- 
dition, it  is  time  to  leave  them. 

Thus  have  I  traced,  in  this  essay,  whatever  has  fallen 

[154] 


SELECTIONS   FKOM    TEMPLE 

in  my  way  or  thoughts  to  observe  concermng  life  and 
health,  and  which  I  conceived  might  be  of  any  public  use 
to  be  known  or  considered;  the  plainness  wherewith  it 
is  written  easily  shows  there  could  be  no  other  intention ; 
and  it  may  at  least  pass,  like  a  Derbyshire  charm,  which 
is  used  among  sick  cattle,  with  these  words:  ''If  it  does 
thee  no  good,  it  will  do  thee  no  harm. ' ' 


[155] 


I  would  recommend  to  everyone  that  admirable 
precept  which  Pythagoras  is  said  to  have  given  to  his 
disciples  .  .  .  :  ''Pitch  upon  that  course  of  life  which 
is  the  most  excellent,  and  custom  will  render  it  the  most 
delightful."  Men  luhose  circumstances  will  permit 
them  to  choose  their  own  way  of  life  are  inexcusable  if 
they  do  not  pursue  that  which  their  judgment  tells 
them  is  the  most  laudable.  The  voice  of  reason  is  more 
to  be  regarded  than  the  bent  of  any  present  inclination, 
since,  by  the  rule  above  mentioned,  inclination  will  at 
length  come  over  to  reason,  though  we  can  never  force 
reason  to  comply  with  inclination. — Joseph  Addison. 


AF»P>ENDIX 


A  Short  History 

OF 

TheCornhro  r/^niLY 


Some  Account 

OF 

Eminent  Cornt^ros 


A  Eulogy  upon   Louis  Cornhro 

-     BY 

Bartolomeo  Gamba 


"The  Villt^s  Erected  by  Louis  Cornhro" 

BY 

Dr.  Prof.  Emilio  Lovarini 


Health,   brightest  visitant  from  heaven. 

Grant  me  with  thee  to  rest! 
For  the  short  term  by  nature  given. 

Be  thou  my  constant  guest! 
For  all  the  pride  that  wealth  bestows. 
The  pleasure  that  from  children  flows. 
Whatever  we  court  in  regal  state 
That  mahes  men  covet  to  be  great; 

Whatever  sweets  lue  hope  to  find 

In  Love's  delightful  snare; 
Whatever  good  by  Heaven  assign  d. 

Whatever  pause  from  care: 
All  flourish  at  thy  smile  divine; 
The   spring   of   loveliness  is   thine. 
And  every  joy  that  warms  our  hearts. 
With  thee  approaches  and  departs. 

— Robert  Bland. 


A  SHORT  HISTORY 


OF 


THE     ANCIENT     AND     ILLUSTRIOUS 


CORNSRO    TaMILY 


OF    VENICE 


Nor  can  the  skillful  herald  trace 
The  founder  of  thy  ancient  race. 

— Jonathan  Swift. 

The  noble  steeds,  and  harness  bright. 
And  gallant  lord,  and  stalwart  Jcnight, 
In  rich  array — 

Where  shall  we  seeh  them  now?  Alas! 
Like  the  bright  dewdrops  on  the  grass. 
They  passed  away. 

— Manrique  (trans,  by  Longfellow). 

NEVER  was  parent  better  repaid  by  the  steadfast  devo- 
tion of  her  children  than  was  that  Mistress  of  the 
Seas,  who,  century  after  century,  was  the  wonder 
and  admiration  of  mankind ;  the  center  of  the  trade  and  finance 
of  the  world,  supreme  as  she  was  in  every  mart;    the  most 

[159] 


'The  art  of  living  long 

valiant  defender  of  civilization  in  its  wars  against  the  Turks ; 
as  well  as  the  example  to  humanity,  and  its  inspiration,  in  all 
the  arts  of  peace. 

Among  her  patriotic  sons  and  daughters,  none  labored  in 
her  service  with  a  more  earnest  self-denial  than  did  the  mem- 
bers of  the  illustrious  patrician  family  of  CORNARO,  whose 
name  is  found  interwoven  for  centuries  in  every  honorable 
particular  of  the  remarkable  history  of  the  Republic  of 
Venice.  Almost  every  line  of  the  annals  of  this  celebrated 
family  shows  unmistakably  that  their  ambition,  their  aspira- 
tion, their  toil,  their  courageous  exposure — and  often  sacri- 
fice— of  life  and  fortune,  were  always  for  the  advancement 
of  their  country's  safety  and  glory,  for  which  their  own  was 
counted  as  naught ;  determined,  as  they  were,  that  Venice 
should  excel  in  virtue,  power,  and  splendor,  any  land  which 
presumed  to  be  her  rival,  and  that  her  children  should  thus 
enjoy  a  life  of  happiness  and  security.  This,  for  generations, 
was  the  ruling  passion  and  guiding  principle  of  this  proud 
and  noble  family. 

The  Cornari,  the  history  of  whom,  for  generations, *dded 
imperishable  fame  to  their  illustrious  source,  were  descended, 
according  to  the  most  authoritative  traditions  of  the 
chroniclers,  from  the  ancient  and  noble  race  of  the  Cornelii* 
of  Rome.  Having  in  remote  times  settled  at  Rimini, 
they  were  subsequently  among  the  first  inhabitants  of  Rialto, 
the  name  by  which  Venice  was  known  in  its  infancy.  The 
orthography  of  the  name,  during  the  family's  long  history, 
was  gradually  modified ;  so  that,  from  Cornelii,  it  became  suc- 
cessively Cornelli,  Coronelli,  Coronetti,  Coronarii,  and  finally 
Cornaro,  or  Corner.  The  names  Corner  and  Cornaro  are 
identical,  the  first  being  the  abridged  Italian  form  of  the 
Venetian  Cornaro ;  in  the  i8th  century  some  members  of  the 
family  adopted  that  of  Corner,  by  which  all  are  now  known. 
(To  be  uniform,  the  ancient  mode,  that  of  Cornaro,  is  adhered 
to  throughout  this  work.) 

Having  been  enrolled  among  those  who  comprised  the 

*  See  Note  L 

[160] 


THE  CORNARO  FAMILY 

body  of  the  Venetian  nobility,  the  Cornaros  were  included 
among  the  first  twelve  patrician  families  of  the  Republic, 
called  the  apostolical,  or  tribunal  families,  which  for  centuries 
gave  the  military  tribunes  to  the  Republic ;  many  of  the  family 
were  members  also  of  the  famous  Great  Council,  established 
in  1 172. 

In  the  14th  century,  the  family  separated  into  two 
distinct  branches,  the  first  of  which  was  distinguished  by 
contemporaries,  and  later  by  historians,  by  the  name  of 
Cornaro  of  the  Great  House;  the  other  was  that  of  Cornaro 
Piscopia,  so  called  from  the  castle  and  fief  of  Piscopia  which 
they  had  acquired  in  the  island  of  Cyprus,  and  which,  formerly 
the  property  of  Giovanni  Ibelini,  Count  of  Jaffa,  had  come 
into  the  possession  of  this  branch  of  the  family  by  a  grant 
from  the  king,  in  1363,  to  Federico  (Frederick)  Cornaro. 
This  was  the  branch  to  which  Caterina  (Catherine)  Cornaro, 
Queen  of  Cyprus;  Elena  Lucrezia  (Helen  Lucretia)  Cornaro, 
the  famous  scholar;  and  Louis  Cornaro,  the  author  of  "The 
Temperate  Life,"  belonged.  After  the  ascent  of  Caterina  to 
regal  power,  by  her  marriage,  in  1468,  to  James  of  Lusignan, 
King  of  Cyprus,  the  branch  known  as  Cornaro  of  the  Great 
House  was  also  designated  by  the  name  of  Cornaro  of  the 
Queen.  It  was  then,  also,  that  the  family  quartered  with 
their  own  the  royal  arms  of  Cyprus,  as  shown  in  their  coat 
of  arms  on  page  six. 

To  attempt  even  a  short  biography  of  all  the  many  dis- 
tinguished members  of  this  noted  family  would  be  im- 
possible in  a  work  of  this  nature;  however,  abbreviated 
sketches  of  the  lives  of  a  few  among  those  most  cele- 
brated may  be  of  interest  to  the  reader,  and  are  to  be  found 
elsewhere  in  this  volume.  Few  family  records,  in  any  country, 
show  so  large  a  number  of  members  who  have,  by  such  a 
variety  of  paths,  attained  exalted  station.  The  list  comprises 
a  queen,  four  princely  doges  of  the  Venetian  Republic,  twenty- 
two  procurators  of  St.  Mark,  nine  cardinals,  and  a  host  of 
names    made    illustrious    by    noteworthy    achievement.      As 


[161] 


THE   AET    OP    LIVING   LONG 

valiant  leaders  in  peace  or  war;  as  honored  councillors  and 
trusted  diplomats;  as  reverend  senators  and  magistrates;  in 
letters;  philosophy;  the  sciences;  and  the  arts, — the  descend- 
ants of  the  Cornelii  have  proudly  blazoned  a  record  upon  the 
scroll  of  fame  that  few  historic  families  can  equal. 

Yet,  of  all  this  illustrious  number,  to  that  plain  and  unas- 
suming gentleman  and  true  nobleman,  Louis  Cornaro, 
the  veteran  author  of  "The  Temperate  Life,"  is  due  the 
greatest  distinction — the  gratitude  of  all  mankind. 

That  the  memory  of  the  race  of  Cornaro  is  indelibly 
preserved  in  marble  and  granite,  the  palaces,  once  the 
homes  of  illustrious  members  of  the  family;  many  of  the 
churches  of  Venice,  built  by  their  aid,  and  often  wholly 
or  in  part  at  their  expense;  and  the  monuments,  erected  by 
reverent  descendants  or  by  a  grateful  country  to  do  honor  to 
the  memory  of  individuals  of  this  family, — emphatically 
though  silently  testify. 

In  the  Church  of  Sant'  Apostoli — ^built  largely  at  the 
expense  of  the  family,  and  rebuilt  in  1750 — is  a  magnificent 
Cornaro  Chapel,  supported  by  fanciful  Corinthian  pillars. 
This  chapel — erected  in  1575 — contains  the  sepulchral  urn  of 
Marco  (Mark)  Cornaro,  father  of  Queen  Caterina,  and  that 
of  her  brother,  the  famous  nobleman  Giorgio  (George)  Cor- 
naro— the  husband  of  Elisabetta  Morosini — who  died  July  31, 

1527. 

In  the  magnificent  Italian-Gothic  Church  of  Santi  Gio- 
vanni e  Paolo,  better  known  as  San  Zanipolo,  and  often  called 
The  Westminster  Abbey  of  Venice, — begun  in  1234,  but  not 
finished  until  1430, — is  the  gorgeous  mausoleum  of  the  Doge 
Marco  Cornaro,  the  sarcophagus  decorated  with  roses,  the 
canopy  above  it  adorned  with  five  very  beautiful  statues,  the 
work  of  the  most  celebrated  Venetian  sculptors  of  the  Middle 
Ages ;  here  also  may  be  seen  the  sepulchral  urn  of  Pietro 
(Peter)  Cornaro,  who  died  in  1361. 

In  the  Church  of  San  Salvatore, — begun  in  1506  and 
completed  about  1534, — where  lie  the  remains  of  Queen 
Caterina,  in  the  center  of  a   Corinthian   portico  there  is  a 


[162] 


THE   COENAKO   FAMILY 

beautiful  monument  erected  to  her  memory  in  the  year  1570, 
the  relief  representing  her  resigning  her  crown  to  Doge 
Agostino  Barbarigo  (the  74th  doge  of  Venice,  1486-1501)  ;  as 
well  as  one  erected  in  the  i6th  century  to  three  Cornaro  car- 
dinals, Marco,  Francesco  (Francis),  and  Andrea  (Andrew). 
In  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria  Gloriosa  dei  Frari — 
designed  about  1250,  and  containing  the  colossal  monument 
of  Titian,  unveiled  in  1853 — is  the  chapel  of  Angelo  Cornaro, 
sculptured  in  marble  (15th  century).  In  the  Church  of  Santa 
Maria  della  Salute — founded  in  163 1  as  a  monument  of  thanks- 
giving for  the  cessation  of  the  great  plague,  and  thus  known 
as  one  of  The  Great  Plague  Churches  of  Venice — is  the 
sepulchral  urn  of  Antonio  (Anthony)  Cornaro,  rich  in  carv- 
ings (i6th  century).  In  the  Church  of  San  Pietro  di  Castello 
— the  Cathedral  of  Venice  from  the  earliest  days  of  the 
Republic  until  1807 — is  the  urn  of  Filippo  (Philip)  Cornaro, 
very  rich  in  ornaments  (i6th  century).  In  the  Seminary  (II 
Seminario)  is  the  urn  of  another  Antonio  Cornaro,  with  bas- 
reliefs  representing  infants  and  griffins  (i6th  century). 
There  is  also  a  Cornaro  monument  in  the  Church  of  I 
Tolentini. 

It  is  impossible  to  do  justice,  in  this  work,  to  the  beauty 
and  grandeur,  or  to  the  historic  associations,  of  the  sev- 
eral magnificent  palaces  in  Venice,  once  the  homes  of 
members  of  the  Cornaro  family,  but  now  either  inhabited  by 
strangers,  or  else  converted  to  the  use  of  the  public  or  of  the 
government ;  consequently,  we  shall  allude  to  them  very 
briefly. 

At  that  part  of  the  venerable  city  known  as  Sant'  Apo- 
stoli,  is  a  Cornaro  Palace  of  the  i6th  century,  the  whole  faqade 
of  which  was  originally  painted  in  fresco.  At  San  Samuele, 
and  facing  upon  the  Grand  Canal,  is  an  imposing  Cornaro 
Palace,  which,  in  the  early  part  of  the  i8th  century,  was  the 
home  of  the  nobleman  Girolamo  (Jerome)  Cornaro.  Another, 
at  San  Canciano,  was,  in  the  i8th  century,  the  home  of  the 
senator  and  famous  author  Flaminio  (Flaminius)  Cornaro. 

At  San  Cassiano,  in  the  Street  of  the  Queen,  is  the  Cor- 


[163] 


THE   ABT   OF   LIVING   LONG 

naro  Palace  of  the  Queen,  the  old  name  of  palace  and  street 
being  still  retained ;  here  was  born,  in  1454,  Caterina  Cornaro, 
afterward  Queen  of  Cyprus.  The  ancient  pile,  however,  does 
not  exist,  the  present  one  having  been  erected  upon  the  site 
of  the  old  one  in  1724.  The  new  edifice,  inelegant  in  style, 
manifests  the  decadence  of  art;  but  the  entrance  from  the 
Grand  Canal  is  really  imposing,  and  is  said  to  have  cost  an 
immense  sum.  This  structure  is  now  a  Mount  of  Piety 
(Italian,  Monte  di  pieta),  a  government  establishment,  the 
object  of  which  is  to  lend  money,  no  matter  how  small  in 
amount,  at  only  a  nominal  interest,  to  those  who  are  in  neces- 
sity; this  custom,  originating  in  Italy  in  the  15th  century, 
has  since  been  adopted  in  various  countries. 

Giovanni  (John)  Cornaro,  nephew  of  Queen  Caterina, 
built,  in  1548,  upon  an  old  site  in  the  square  of  San  Polo,  what 
is  now  known  as  the  great  Cornaro-Mocenigo-Revedin  Palace, 
of  which  Sammicheli  was  the  architect.  This  palace  gave  to 
the  neighboring  street  the  name  of  Cornaro.  The  Cornaro 
Palace  of  the  Great  House,  a  massive  and  magnificent  pile, 
with  a  Doric,  Ionic,  and  Composite  front,  was  erected  (by 
Sansovino)  in  1532,  at  San  Maurizio,  by  the  nephews  of  Queen 
Caterina;  it  faces  the  Grand  Canal,  and  is  now  the  office  of 
the  Royal  Prefect  of  the  Province.  There  are  two  other  Cor- 
naro Palaces  on  the  Grand  Canal :  one  in  the  Court  of  the 
Tree,  now  called  the  Cornaro-Spinelli  Palace,  a  work  of  the 
Renaissance ;  the  other,  at  San  Benedetto,  at  the  corner  of  the 
Canal  of  the  Mails,  is  now  called  the  Cornaro-Mocenigo 
Palace,  and  is  used  as  the  office  of  the  city's  water-works. 

The  Cornaro-Piscopia  Palace  at  San  Luca — later  called, 
and  still  known  as,  the  Loredan  Palace,  and  now  used  as  the 
palace  (or  offices)  of  the  municipality  of  Venice — was,  in  the 
14th  century,  the  residence  of  Federico  Cornaro,  whose  guest 
Peter  of  Lusignan,  King  of  Cyprus,  was  in  1363  and  1364. 
To  show  his  gratitude,  in  addition  to  the  grant  of  the  fief  of 
Piscopia  in  his  kingdom,  the  King  created  Cornaro  a  knight 
of  an  ancient  Cyprian  order,  having  for  its  motto  "To  main- 
tain loyalty"  ("Pour  loyaute  maintenir").  To  perpetuate 
the  memory  of  this  visit  of  the  King,  Cornaro  caused  to  be 


[164] 


THE  CORNAHO  FAMILY 

graven  upon  the  front  of  his  palace  on  the  Grand  Canal,  the 
royal  arms  of  Cyprus  beside  those  of  the  Cornaros,  together 
with  the  knightly  emblem  of  his  order;  there  they  may  be 
seen  to  this  day.  The  exact  age  and  origin  of  this  palace, 
an  early  Byzantine  one,  are  not  known ;  but  it  is  believed  to 
date  back  as  early  as  the  loth  or  nth  century.  In  "The 
Stones  of  Venice"  Ruskin  says  of  it :  "Though  not  conspicu- 
ous and  often  passed  with  neglect,  the  Loredan  Palace,  will, 
I  believe,  be  felt  at  last,  by  all  who  examine  it  carefully,  to  be 
the  most  beautiful  of  all  the  palaces  in  the  whole  extent  of 
the  Grand  Canal.  It  has  been  restored  often,  once  in  the 
Gothic,  once  in  the  Renaissance  times — some  writers  say  even 
rebuilt;  but,  if  so,  rebuilt  in  its  old  form."  It  was  in  this 
palace,  in  the  year  1646,  that  that  marvel  of  her  age,  Elena 
Lucrezia  Cornaro,  was  born. 

When  the  great  name  of  Cornaro  and  the  prosperity  of 
the  family  were  at  their  zenith,  their  sumptuous  palaces  were 
filled  with  memorials  of  the  glorious  history  of  their  ances- 
tors. These  mute  testimonials  to  the  prowess  of  warriors, 
as  well  as  to  the  victors  in  more  peaceful  pursuits,  were  to 
be  seen  in  an  abundance  more  than  sufficient  to  satisfy  the 
most  ambitious. 

Nor  will  the  visitor  in  Venice,  once  familiar  with  its 
streets,  have  any  reason  for  ignorance  of  the  existence  of  the 
name  of  Cornaro;  for  here,  too,  will  he  be  confronted  by 
mementos  of  this  ancient  family. 

At  San  Maurizio,  the  footway  and  bridge  known  as  Cor- 
naro Zaguri  lead  to  the  Cornaro  Palace  of  the  Great  House, 
as  the  Street  of  the  Queen,  at  San  Cassiano,  leads  to  the  Cor- 
naro Palace  of  the  Queen ;  and  the  street  which  gives  access 
to  the  Cornaro  Palace  that  faces  on  the  Grand  Canal,  at  San 
Samuele,  is  still  called  Cornaro.  Another,  bearing  the  family 
name,  is  Cornaro  Street,  near  the  square  of  San  Polo,  named 
after  the  palace  in  the  square. 

The  Cornaro  family  began  to  be  interested  in  the 
Paduan   country  for  the  first  time,  so  far  as  is  known  by 


[165]. 


THE   ART   OF   LIVING  LONG 

the  records,  in  the  year  1406,  when  Francesco  Cornaro 
became  the  proprietor  of  a  portion  of  the  confiscated  property 
of  the  ancient  lords  of  Carrara — from  1318  to  1405  the  sover- 
eign lords  of  Padua.  The  palace  on  the  Via  Melchiorre 
Cesarotti  in  Padua,  built  by  Louis  Cornaro,  is  still  in  exist- 
ence, and  is  known  as  the  Cornaro  Palace.  In  the  Church 
of  San  Antonio  in  Padua,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  build- 
ings in  Italy, — begun  about  1230  and  completed  in  1307, — 
there  is  a  monument  dedicated  to  Caterino  Cornaro,  General 
of  the  Republic  of  Venice  in  the  wars  against  the  Turks. 

When  Caterina  became  Queen  of  Cyprus,  the  power 
of  the  Cornaro  family  in  that  kingdom  was  naturally  in- 
creased. It  is  certain,  however,  that  they  were  not  only 
residents  of  the  island,  but  possessed  considerable  in- 
fluence there,  for  a  long  time  prior  to  this  event;  and  it  is 
known  that,  in  the  middle  of  the  14th  century,  their  wealth 
and  position  were  such  that  the  king  resorted  to  them  for  a 
considerable  loan  of  money.  At  the  court  of  Cyprus,  Venice 
was  regularly  represented  by  a  consul ;  and  some  contempo- 
raneous documents  go  to  prove  the  zeal  which  the  Venetian 
Senate  showed  in  having  his  appointed  salary  paid,  and  in 
seeing,  at  the  same  time,  that  the  debts  contracted  by  that 
court  with  Venetian  merchants  and  bankers  should  be  dis- 
charged. In  one  of  these  documents,  dated  September  17, 
1455,  it  is  deplored  that  "injustice  should  have  been  commit- 
ted, to  the  damage  of  the  heirs  and  claimants  of  Giovanni 
Cornaro" ;  and,  furthermore,  that  "the  noble  citizen  Marco 
Cornaro,"  father  of  Caterina,  "should  have  been  injured  in 
his  rights  in  not  receiving  that  which  the  king  owed  him." 
The  tutelage  of  Venice  over  Cyprus  was,  indeed,  so  diligent 
as  to  interest  the  king  in  the  solution  of  a  question  of  water 
necessary  for  the  good  culture  of  the  sugar-cane  in  the  fief 
of  the  Cornaros. 

But  with  the  glory,  the  power,  and  the  commanding 
influence  of  The  Queen  of  the  Adriatic,  that,  too,  of  the 
race  of  the   Cornari  has  well-nigh   departed.      The   fortunes 


[166] 


THE  CORNAKO  FAMILY 

and  personality  of  a  house  whose  opulence  and  great- 
ness were  seldom,  if  ever,  surpassed  by  any  of  their  country- 
men, and  the  lives  of  whose  sons  and  daughters  have  fur- 
nished themes  for  an  almost  endless  number  of  writers,  are 
now  but  a  memory.  In  Venice  there  are,  to-day,  five  families 
who  bear  the  name,  and  who,  as  descendants  of  the  old  race, 
are  recognized  as  belonging  to  the  Venetian  patriciate.  Not 
a  Cornaro,  however,  lives  in  the  halls  of  his  ancestors.  But 
the  patriotic  fire  of  the  lords  of  generations  ago  still  burns 
in  the  breasts  of  their  children ;  proud  of  the  history  of  their 
family,  they  still  hold  Queen  Caterina  especially  dear;  and, 
in  order  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  that  noble  woman,  a 
custom  was  long  since  instituted  to  give  the  name  of  Caterino 
to  a  male  child,  in  the  event  of  the  denial,  to  any  family,  of 
a  girl  baby. 

Among  the  many  portraits  of  the  members  of  this  cele- 
brated family — not  elsewhere  mentioned  in  this  work — is  that 
of  Giorgio  Cornaro,  in  the  collection  of  the  Earl  of  Carlisle ; 
and  The  Cornaro  Family,  in  Alnwick  Castle,  the  baronial 
residence  of  the  dukes  of  Northumberland, — both  by  Titian. 


[167] 


Man's  rich  with  little,  were  his  judgment  true; 
Nature  is  frugal,  and  her  wants  are  few; 
These  few  wants,  answer  d,  bring  sincere  delights; 
But  fools  create  themselves  new  appetites. 

At  thirty,  man  suspects  himself  a  fool. 
Knows  it  at  forty,  and  reforms  his  plan; 
At  fifty,  chides  his  infamous  delay. 
Pushes  his  prudent  purpose   to   resolve. 
In  all  the  magnanimity   of  thought; 
Resolves,  and  re-resolves,  then  dies  the  same. 
And  why?     Because  he  thinks  himself  immortal. 
All  men  think  all  men  mortal  but  themselves. 

— Edward  Young. 


SOME     ACCOUNT 


OF 


EMINENT  MEMBERS 


OF 


The  Copnaro   Tamily 


PILGRIM, 
From  Lives  thus  spent  thy  earthly  Duties  learn  ; 
Erom  Fancy's  Dreams  to  active  Virtue  turn: 
Let  Freedom,  Friendship,  Faith,  thy  Soul  engage. 
And  serve,  like  them,  thy  Country  and  thy  Age.* 


CATERINA  (CATHERINE)  CORNARO,  one  of  the 
most  illustrious  women  of  the  Renaissance,  was  the 
daughter  of  Marco  Cornaro — grandson  of  the  Doge 
Marco  Cornaro — and  Fiorenza,  his  wife;  and  was  born  in  the 
city  of  Venice,  November  25,  1454,  in  that  Cornaro  Palace 
to  which — as  well  as  to  the  present  one,  built  in  the  i8th  cen- 
tury on  the  site  of  the  ancient  structure — the  fact  of  her  birth 

*  From  a  mural  tablet  in  The  First  Church,  Quincy,  Massa- 
chusetts; placed  there  in  memory  of  John  Adams,  the  second 
President   of  the   United   States,   and   Abigail   Smith,   his   wife. 


[169] 


THE   ABT   OF   LIVING   LONG 

and  of  her  subsequent  elevation  to  royal  power  gave  the  name 
of  the  Cornaro  Palace  of  the  Queen,  and,  to  the  street  in  which 
it  is  located,  the  name  of  the  Street  of  the  Queen. 

Her  brilliant,  though  mournful,  history  has  afforded  a 
theme  for  many  writers  in  all  languages.  Giving  evidence 
at  an  early  age  of  rare  qualities  of  mind,  character,  and  per- 
son,— for  there  were  few,  if  any,  of  her  countrywomen  who 
excelled  her  in  charm  and  grace, — she  was  educated  with  the 
scrupulous  care  due  the  daughter  of  a  royal  house;  as  on  her 
mother's  side  she  had  an  imperial  ancestry  by  reason  of  her 
descent  from  the  Comneni  emperors  of  Trebizond.  She  was 
married  July  lo,  1468, — when  not  yet  fifteen  years  of  age, — 
with  the  most  gorgeous  and  extraordinary  ceremonies  and  pub- 
lic rejoicings,  to  James  of  Lusignan,  King  of  Cyprus,  whose 
love  for  her  was  first  aroused  on  seeing  her  portrait  in  the 
hands  of  her  uncle,  Andrea  Cornaro ;  at  the  same  time  she  was 
adopted  by  the  Venetian  Senate  as  The  Daughter  of  the 
Republic,  in  order  that  her  rank  might  equal  that  of  her  hus- 
band ;  and  a  dowry  of  one  hundred  thousand  golden  ducats 
was  presented  to  her. 

In  1473,  on  the  death  of  her  husband  in  his  thirty-third 
year,  she  succeeded  him  on  the  throne  as  Queen  of  Cyprus; 
in  August,  1474,  she  suffered  the  loss  of  the  infant  Prince 
James,  her  only  child — born  August,  1473;  and  after  a 
troubled  reign  of  sixteen  years, — during  which  time  she 
acquired  the  well-deserved  reputation  of  a  very  superior, 
wise,  energetic,  liberal  woman, — worried  by  political  jealousies 
and  intrigues,  she  abdicated,  February  26,  1489,  in  favor  of 
the  Venetian  Republic.  On  her  return  to  Venice,  she  was 
received  with  great  pomp  and  consideration,  the  reigning 
doge  himself  meeting  her  in  the  celebrated  historic  Bucen- 
taur,*  The  beautiful  country-seat  and  castle  of  Asolo,  nine- 
teen miles  from  Treviso  and  still  in  existence,  was  given  her 
in  sovereignty ;  this,  together  with  her  palace  in  Venice,  she 
made  her  home  for  the  remainder  of  her  life,  spending  her 
time  in  works  of  charity,  in  the  cultivation  of  her  rural 
retreat,  and  in  the  pleasures  of  art  and  literature — maintain- 
ing at  Asolo  a  court  for  poets,  scholars,  and  artists. 

*  See  Note  M 

[170] 


ILLUSTRIOUS    CORNAROS 

Her  death  occurred  at  Venice,  July  lo,  1510;  and  the 
body  of  the  dead  Queen  was  followed  by  all  the  dignitaries 
of  Church  and  State,  as  well  as  by  a  vast  concourse  of  citi- 
zens, to  its  resting-place  in  the  Cornaro  Chapel  in  the  Church 
of  Sant'  Apostoli ;  whence  it  was  removed  in  1660,  and  placed 
in  her  mausoleum  in  the  right  transept  of  the  Church  of  San 
Salvatore,  where  it  now  lies.  The  inscription,  in  Latin, 
plainly  marks  the  final  home  of  the  remains  of  "Catherine, 
Queen  of  Cyprus,  Jerusalem,  and  Armenia." 

Her  eminent  relative.  Cardinal  Bembo,  in  his  "Gli  Aso- 
lani,"  pays  a  high  tribute  to  her  intellectual  qualities,  as  well 
as  her  many  womanly  virtues.  Her  portrait,  taken  at  the 
age  of  eighteen,  in  her  crown  and  queenly  robes,  was  painted 
by  Titian;  another,  by  Veronese,  hangs  in  the  Belvedere  at 
Vienna;  while  the  one  by  Pordenone  is  in  the  Dresden  Gal- 
lery. A  magnificent  painting  of  her  by  Makart  hangs  in  the 
National  Gallery  at  Berlin ;  in  it,  as  Queen  of  Cyprus,  she  is 
seen  receiving  the  proffered  homage  of  the  Venetian  patri- 
cians. 

ELENA  LUCREZIA  (HELEN  LUCRETIA)  COR- 
NARO PISCOPIA,  one  of  the  most  accomplished  and  illus- 
trious women  of  her  day,  was  born  at  Venice,  June  5,  1646, 
in  the  Cornaro  Piscopia  Palace — now  the  Loredan.  She  was 
the  daughter  of  Giovanni  Battista  (John  Baptist)  Cornaro, 
Procurator  of  St.  Mark,  and  of  Zanetta  Boni,  his  wife. 

Naturally  of  a  very  retiring  as  well  as  devotional  dis- 
position, she  wished  to  enter  some  religious  order ;  but  her 
father's  entreaties  altered  her  purpose.  For,  recognizing,  while 
she  was  still  a  child,  her  extraordinary  gifts,  he  determined 
that  nothing  should  interfere  with  his  cherished  ambition 
that  his  family  should  possess,  in  the  person  of  his  beautiful 
daughter, — though  so  delicate  and  modest,  and  averse  to  the 
world  or  to  any  kind  of  publicity, — the  most  learned  woman 
of  her  day.  This  purpose  he  realized,  albeit  at  the  early 
sacrifice  of  the  health,  and,  indeed,  of  the  life,  of  the  innocent 
victim  of  his  paternal  and  ancestral  pride. 


[171] 


THE   ART   OF   LIVING   LONG 

Although  entirely  devoid  of  wordly  ambition,  yet,  in 
order  that  she  might  not  disappoint  the  parent  whose  every 
hope  was  centered  in  his  daughter's  triumph,  she  devoted  all 
her  energies  to  the  task  assigned  her;  so  that,  such  were  her 
wonderful  powers  of  mind  and  memory,  she  soon  excelled  in 
every  branch  of  learning.  She  acquired  a  perfect  knowledge 
of  many  of  the  modern  languages, — writing  them  with  ease 
and  speaking  them  fluently, — as  well  as  of  Latin,  Greek, 
Hebrew,  and  Arabic.  Her  natural  taste  for  poetry  and  music 
was  so  highly  cultivated,  that  she  sang,  in  a  sweet  and  flexible 
voice,  her  own  verses  in  various  languages,  set  to  music  of  her 
own  composition,  and  to  her  own  accompaniment,  either  on 
the  viol,  harp,  or  harpsichord.  She  became  a  perfect  mistress 
of  many  of  the  arts  and  sciences,  and  of  ancient  and  modern 
history,  including,  of  course,  that  of  her  own  country  and 
family.  In  theology,  philosophy,  and  dialectics  she  was  no 
less  accomplished.  In  a  word,  her  response  to  her  father's 
appeal  was  so  sincere  that,  although  deaf  to  the  applause  of 
all,— nay,  embarrassed  by  the  admiration  she  constantly  ex- 
cited, distasteful  to  her  as  it  was  unavoidable, — she  became  a 
miracle  of  learning. 

On  a  certain  occasion,  the  haughty  Venetian  Senate  went 
so  far  as  to  suspend  an  important  session,  in  order  that  they 
might  go  in  a  body  to  hear  a  disputation  in  which,  with  that 
eloquence  for  which  she  was  noted,  she  was  engaged  in  the 
presence  of  an  illustrious  gathering,  as  was  the  fashion  of  the 
time.  Contrary  to  her  wishes,  she  was  created  a  master  of 
arts  and  doctor  of  philosophy  by  the  renowned  University  of 
Padua, — founded  early  in  the  13th  century  by  the  Emperor 
Frederick  II., — receiving  the  title  of  Unalterable.  The  cere- 
mony, which  took  place  June  25,  1678,  in  the  Cathedral  of 
Padua,  was  attended  by  illustrious  scholars  of  all  countries, 
and  was  witnessed  by  an  immense  multitude,  attracted  by  the 
unwonted  spectacle.  She  was  also  elected  to  membership  in 
all  the  principal  literary  societies  of  Italy.  At  Rome,  she  was 
admitted  at  the  University,  and  was  entitled  The  Humble; 
and  princes  and  representatives  of  all  nations  paid  homage  to 


[172] 


ILLUSTKIOUS    COENAKOS 

her  learning  and  virtues.  Her  hand  was  asked  in  marriage 
by  some  of  the  most  noted  men  of  her  time ;  all  of  these  offers, 
however,  in  obedience  to  a  resolution  made  in  her  girlhood, 
she  declined. 

Her  uninterrupted  application  to  her  studies,  but  es- 
pecially the  atmosphere  of  unwelcome  publicity  in  which  she 
had  always  lived, — so  uncongenial  and  often  painful  to  her 
sensitive  nature, — completed  the  ruin  of  her  naturally  delicate 
health.  Although  anticipating  her  death  to  be  not  far  distant, 
yet,  to  further  please  her  father, — blind  to  her  critical  condi- 
tion,— she  wrote  eulogies  upon  many  of  the  most  eminent  per- 
sonages of  her  day ;  these  were  followed  by  her  remarkable 
panegyric  on  the  Republic  of  Venice. 

But  the  replies  to  these  final  efforts,  which  had  been 
accomplished  at  such  a  fearful  cost  to  her  health  and  life, 
found  the  illustrious  maiden  stretched  upon  a  bed  of  pain, 
which,  in  a  short  time,  proved  to  be  her  couch  of  death — the 
release  from  her  sufferings  coming  to  her  in  the  city  of  Padua, 
July  26,  1684.  From  that  day  to  the  29th, — the  day  of  her 
funeral, — when  her  body  was  laid  to  rest  in  the  Church  of 
Santa  Giustina,  the  city,  with  all  affairs  suspended,  presented 
the  spectacle  of  a  universal,  heartfelt  grief,  so  deeply  in  the 
affections  of  all  was  she  enshrined.  Her  death  was  recorded 
by  poetical  effusions  from  the  learned  of  Europe.  In  an 
eloquent  oration,  pronounced  at  a  funeral  solemnity  performed 
in  her  honor  at  Rome,  she  was  celebrated  as  triumphing  over 
three  monsters.  Pride,  Luxury,  and  Ignorance.  At  the  foot 
of  the  staircase  on  the  right  of  the  entrance  to  the  University 
of  Padua,  is  a  statue  erected  to  her  memory  in  1773. 

The  first  edition  of  her  works  was  published  at  Parma  in 
1688. 

MARCO  (MARK)  CORNARO,  the  59th  doge  of 
Venice,  held  that  princely  and  historic  office  from  July  21, 
1365,  to  January  13,  1368,  when  he  died  at  the  age  of  eighty- 
two — one  of  the  most  famous  doges  of  The  Golden  Book.* 
During  his  term  the  Venetians  waged  a  bitter  war  against  the 

*  See   Note   N 

[173]  


THE   ART   OF    LIVING   LONG 

Turks  and,  also,  subdued  the  rebellion  in  Candia,     His  tomb 
is  in  the  Church  of  Santi  Giovanni  e  Paolo. 

GIOVANNI  (JOHN)— I.— CORNARO,  the  96th  doge  of 
Venice,  was  elected  January  4,  1625,  as  the  successor 
of  Francesco  Contarini  (doge,  1623-1624).  During  his 
reign  the  Venetians  defended  Mantua  against  the  Imperial 
army ;  about  which  period  a  severe  plague  raged  in  Venice  and 
throughout  northern  Italy.  At  this  time,  also,  occurred  a 
bitter  feud  between  the  powerful  Zeno  family — descendants 
of  Renier  Zeno,  the  45th  doge  of  Venice,  1253-1268 — and  his 
own.     Cornaro  died  December  23,  1629. 

FRANCESCO  (FRANCIS)  CORNARO,  the  loist 
doge  of  Venice,  was  born  May  6,  1585.  He  was  the  son  of 
Doge  Giovanni  (I.)  Cornaro,  and  was  chosen  to  his  exalted 
office  May  17,  1656.  During  his  very  short  term — he  died 
June  5  of  the  same  year — the  Venetians  continued  their 
victories  over  the  Turks. 

GIOVANNI  (JOHN)— II.— CORNARO,  the  iiith  doge 
of  Venice,  was  born  August  4,  1647.  His  mother,  Cornelia 
Contarini,  was  of  that  illustrious  family  which  gave  the 
great  Republic  eight  of  its  one  hundred  and  twenty  doges, 
a  greater  number  than  can  be  claimed  for  any  other  family. 
He  was  elected  doge  May  22,  1709.  During  his  administration 
the  Turks  made  war  on  Venice  and,  in  1715,  took  the  Morea. 
He  concluded  these  hostilities  by  the  peace  of  Passarowitz, 
July  21,  1718.  It  was  during  his  term  that  Venice  lost  her 
last  possessions  in  the  island  of  Candia.  He  died  August  21, 
1722.  He  married  his  relative,  Laura  Cornaro,  who  survived 
him,  dying  in  May,  1729.  He  also  left  three  sons,  Francesco, 
Nicolo  (Nicholas),  and  Alvise. 

FEDERICO  (FREDERICK)  CORNARO,  one  of  the 
three  Venetian  commanders  in  the  struggle  with  the  Genoese 
known   as   the   War   of   Chioggia    (1379-1381),   impoverished 


[174] 


ILLUSTRIOUS    CORNAROS 

himself  by  the  voluntary  sacrifice  of  his  princely  fortune  to  the 
use  of  his  country.  In  August,  1379,  when  it  was  thought 
the  Genoese  might  attack  the  city,  arms  were  distributed  to 
the  people,  and  Cornaro  was  placed  in  command, 

GIORGIO  (GEORGE)  CORNARO,  nephew  of  the 
Doge  Marco  Cornaro,  held  during  his  lifetime  many  positions 
of  trust  and  responsibility,  both  civil  and  military.  He  was 
a  nobleman  of  sterling  worth  and  considerable  influence,  his 
exalted  patriotism  inspiring  ceaseless  efforts  for  the  welfare 
of  his  country;  and  such  was  the  exposure  consequent  to 
his  zeal  in  his  profession  of  arms,  that  it  caused  the  sacrifice 
of  his  health,  and  finally  of  his  life,  in  her  service.  He  died 
December,  1439,  ^"^  ^^^  remains  were  followed  by  the  entire 
population  of  Venice  to  their  final  resting-place  in  the  Cornaro 
Chapel  in  the  Church  of  Sant'  Apostoli. 

ANDREA  (ANDREW)  CORNARO,  a  Venetian  noble- 
man, and  uncle  of  Caterina,  Queen  of  Cyprus,  was  an  exten- 
sive trader  in  that  island.  He  and  his  nephew,  Marco  Bembo, 
were  murdered  during  the  political  disturbances  subsequent 
to  the  death  of  Caterina's  husband.  King  James. 

MARCO  CORNARO,  son  of  Giorgio  Cornaro  and  Elisa- 
betta  Morosini  his  wife,  and  nephew  of  Queen  Caterina,  be- 
came Patriarch  of  Constantinople.  He  was  a  very  eminent 
man  and  of  great  service  to  Venice.  He  died  at  that  city, 
July  20,  1524. 

FRANCESCO  CORNARO  was  born  in  1488.  In  early 
years  he  followed  a  military  life,  and  became  distinguished 
as  a  leader  in  the  army  of  Venice  in  the  wars — in  which 
his  country  became  involved — caused  by  the  rival  ambitions 
of  Francis  I.,  King  of  France,  and  Charles  V.,  Emperor 
of  Germany.  When  peace  was  secured  he  abandoned 
the  profession  of  arms  and  devoted  himself  to  politics  and 
literature,  becoming  the  ambassador  of  the  Republic  to  the 


[175] 


THE   AE,T   OF   LIVING  LONG 

court  of  Charles  V.  He  was  a  man  of  great  learning,  and,  in 
1527,  was  created  a  cardinal.  He  died  September,  1543,  in 
his  fifty-fifth  year,  and  was  buried  in  the  Church  of  San 
Salvatore,  where  his  monument  may  still  be  seen. 

ALVISE  (LOUIS)  CORNARO,  Knight  of  Malta  and 
Grand  Prior  of  Cyprus,  was  born  February  12,  15 16,  and  died 
at  Rome,  May  10,  1584. 

FEDERICO  CORNARO,  son  of  the  Doge  Giovanni 
(I.)  Cornaro,  was  made  Patriarch  of  Venice  in  1632.  He 
was  Grand  Prior  of  Cyprus,  and  died  June  5,  1653,  at  the  age 
of  seventy-eight. 

GIROLAMO  (JEROME)  CORNARO  was  born  June 
25,  1632;  he  succeeded  the  illustrious  Francesco  Morosini 
as  Captain-General  of  the  Venetian  army  when,  in  1688, 
the  latter  was  elected  the  io8th  doge  of  the  Republic — 
the  last  of  that  family  to  attain  the  ducal  dignity.  Cornaro's 
valuable  services  to  his  country  were,  however,  cut  short  in 
1690  by  his  untimely  death  from  fever  at  Valona, — a  seaport 
town  in  Albania,  European  Turkey, — which  the  Turks  had 
held  since  1464,  and  the  Venetians,  under  his  command,  had 
besieged  and  recovered.  His  loss  was  regarded  as  a  great 
calamity. 

GIORGIO  BASILIO  (GEORGE  BASIL)  CORNARO, 
a  younger  brother  of  the  Doge  Giovanni  (II.)  Cornaro, 
was  born  August  i,  1658.  His  early  years  were  spent  in  the 
military  service  of  his  country;  abandoning  this,  he  entered 
the  field  of  politics,  holding  many  offices  of  considerable 
responsibility,  for  which  his  great  learning,  and  the  experience 
gained  by  extensive  foreign  travel,  eminently  qualified  him. 
In  1692  he  represented  Venice  at  the  court  of  Portugal,  and 
was  later  tendered  the  office  of  ambassador  to  the  French 
king;  this  honor,  however,  he  declined,  preferring  to  embrace 
an   ecclesiastical   life.      He   was   a   member   of  the   order   of 


[176] 


ILLUSTEIOUS    COKNAROS 

Knights  of  Malta,  a  religious  and  military  order  instituted  in 
the  nth  century;  was  also  Grand  Prior  of  Cyprus,  an  office 
hereditary  in  his  family;  and  was  made  a  cardinal  July  22, 
1697.    He  died  August  10,  1722. 

FLAMINIO  (FLAMINIUS)  CORNARO  was  born  at 
Venice,  February  4,  1693,  where  he  died  December  28,  1778. 
He  was  a  Venetian  Senator,  and  was  distinguished  for  great 
learning,  attaining  eminence  as  a  hagiographer,  historian,  and 
antiquarian.  He  was  the  author,  in  1749,  of  a  valuable  work 
on  the  churches  of  Venice  (15  vols.),  and  of  another  on  those 
of  Torcello  (3  vols.).  His  home  was  the  Cornaro  Palace  at 
San  Canciano,  in  Venice. 

ANDREA  CORNARO  was  Governor  of  the  island  of 
Candia,  and  fell  while  fighting  valiantly  at  Retimo,  on  the 
northern  coast  of  the  island. 


[177] 


Health  is,  indeed,  so  necessary  to  all  the  duties  as 
well  as  pleasures  of  life,  that  the  crime  of  squandering 
it  is  equal  to  the  folly;  and  he  that  for  a  short  grati- 
fication brings  weakness  and  diseases  upon  himself,  and 
for  the  pleasure  of  a  few  years  passed  in  the  tumults 
of  diversion  and  clamors  of  merriment  condemns  the 
maturer  and  more  experienced  part  of  his  life  to  the 
chamber  and  the  couch,  may  be  justly  reproached,  not 
only  as  a  spendthrift  of  his  happiness,  but  as  a  robber  of 
the  public;  as  a  wretch  that  has  voluntarily  disqualified 
himself  for  the  business  of  his  station,  and  refused  that 
part  which  Providence  assigns  him  in  the  general  tasTc 
of  human  nature. — Samuel  Johnson. 


A   EULOGY 


UPON 


Louis    Copnapo 


BAETOLOMEO  GAMBA 


Delivered  on  the  Tenth  Day  of  August,  1817,  in  the 

Royal  Academy  op  Fine  Arts  of  Venice,  on 

THE  Occasion   of   the   Annual 

Distribution  of 

Prizes 


ON  this  most  impressive  occasion,  amid  these  appropriate 
surroundings,  after  the  dignified  speeches  you  have 
heard,  I  shrink  from  addressing  you,  my  Lord  Count 
the  Governor,  supreme  magistrates  of  this  city,  most  learned 
professors,  worthy  scholars — all  of  you,  my  kind  hearers ;  but 
I  speak  in  grateful  submission  to  the  honorable  charge  laid 
upon  me,  in  obedience  to  the  statutes  of  this  Royal  Academy, 
which  direct  that  every  year  shall  be  renewed  the  praises  of 
those  among  our  national  geniuses  who  have  so  distinguished 
themselves  as  to  be  most  deserving  in  the  three  divine  arts  of 
design. 

To-day,  since  this  august  temple  of  the  Muses  is  more 
resplendent  than  ever,  he  should  not  presume  to  attempt  ful- 
filling this  noble  ofiice  who  but  imperfectly  knows  and  under- 

*  See  Note  O 

[179] 


THE   ART    OF    LIVING   LONG 

stands  their  alluring  graces.  As  for  me,  to  come  forth  as 
little  ingloriously  as  possible  from  this  difficult  undertaking, 
I  intend  to  devote  my  efforts  to  another  object;  and  I  trust 
that  I  shall  see  your  courtesy  smile  upon  me,  if,  leaving  aside 
pencil,  rule,  and  chisel,  I  look  rather  toward  those  who 
protect  artists,  and  call  your  attention  to  a  most  remarkable 
Maecenas.*  I  shall  thus,  overcoming  any  excessive  timidity, 
be  able  to  entertain  you  a  little  regarding  the  advantages 
which  students  of  the  Academy  may  derive  from  this  kind  of 
tutelage;  and  I  shall  present  to  you,  in  his  proper  light,  a 
great  man  of  the  sixteenth  century  who  belonged  to  the  order 
of  the  Venetian  patriciate. 

LOUIS  CORNARO  is  known  to  all  cultured  nations  by 
the  famous  abstemiousness  of  his  long  career  and  by  the 
golden  rules  he  formulated  concerning  the  temperate  life; 
but  it  is  not  perhaps  so  Well  known  how  deeply  versed  he  was 
in  the  arts,  how  much  he  loved  artists,  and  how  faithfully  he 
labored  in  their  interest.  I  shall  speak  now  of  these  merits 
of  his,  and  I  shall  do  it  with  the  rapidity  of  a  hasty  traveler 
who  does  but  lightly  observe  and  examine.  If  I  turn  my  eyes 
upon  Cornaro  in  preference  to  so  many  other  great  men,  who, 
for  the  good  of  the  arts,  were  nurtured  upon  these  shores,  I 
trust  the  choice  will  be  approved ;  since  it  will  bear  upon  a 
subject  honorable  to  our  fellow-citizens,  pleasing  to  our 
worthy  professors,  useful  to  these  valiant  youths — one  which 
may,  in  fine,  be  heard  patiently  by  every  kind  and  gentle  soul. 

Of  the  youthful  years  of  our  Cornaro,  spent  in  Padua, 
there  is  little  to  say,  and  that  little  were  better  left  unsaid. 
Although  well  trained  in  excellent  studies,  as  became  a  gentle- 
man of  fine  intellect,  he  admits  that  he  soon  put  his  studies 
aside,  and  wasted  his  time  in  thoughtlessness  and  excesses ; 
from  which  cause  he  contracted  infirm  health  and  such  bad 
habits  that,  having  arrived  at  the  age  of  thirty-five,  he  had 
nothing  left  to  hope  for  but  that  he  might  end  in  death  the 
sufferings  of  a  worn-out  and  disconsolate  life.  Let  us  not 
linger,  my  dear  young  men,  over  this  state  of  affairs,  which, 
happily,  we  shall  soon  see  corrected;  but  let  us  learn,  by  his 

*  See  Note  P 

[180] 


A   EULOGY   UPON    COENARO 

example,  how  important  it  is  to  follow  the  straight  path  of 
virtue  and  study.  Though  the  contrary  way  of  dissipation  and 
idleness  may  seem,  to  some,  to  be  one  of  peace  and  calmness, 
in  reality  it  is  nothing  but  war  and  storm. 

When  he  had  grown  ripe  in  years  and  judgment,  his 
inborn  love  having  unfolded  toward  those  sister  arts  which 
are  the  dearest  ornaments  of  our  native  land,  Cornaro  found 
in  them  the  truest,  most  useful,  and  most  delightful  enter- 
tainment. Let  us  listen  to  the  substance  of  his  words :  "O 
most  honorable  gentlemen,  great  in  intellect,  in  manners,  and 
in  letters,  and  you  who  excel  in  some  other  quality,  come  with 
me  to  honor  the  arts  and  artists,  and,  in  doing  so,  obtain 
satisfaction  and  comfort ! .  . .  I  live  in  the  most  beautiful  part 
of  this  noble  and  learned  city  of  Padua,  and  derive  from  it  a 
thousand  advantages.  I  build  according  to  architecture,  enjoy 
my  several  gardens,  and  always  find  something  to  delight 
me..  . .  In  April  and  May,  as  also  in  September  and  October, 
I  find  other  pleasures  in  enjoying  a  country-seat  of  mine 
among  the  Euganean  Hills, — in  the  finest  site  thereof, — with 
its  fountains  and  gardens,  and,  above  all,  its  commodious  and 
beautiful  abode ;  also  my  villa  in  the  plain,  which  is  very  fine, 
with  streets  and  a  square,  and  a  church  much  honored ; .  . .  a 
country,  which,  once  deserted  on  account  of  bad  air  and 
marshy  waters,  is  now,  by  my  labors,  all  rich  in  inhabitants 
and  fields  most  fertile ;  so  that  I  may  say,  with  truth,  that  in 
this  spot  I  have  given  to  God  an  altar,  a  temple,  and  souls  to 
adore  Him..  .  .Here  I  take  pleasure  with  men  of  fine  intellect — 
architects,  painters,  sculptors,  musicians,  and  agriculturists ; 
for,  indeed,  with  such  men  our  age  is  abundantly  furnished." 

And  you  well  know,  gentlemen,  how  fruitful  that  age 
was  in  fine  minds.  Happy  age !  Private  individuals  vied  with 
noblemen  and  princes  to  rejoice  the  heavens  with  splendid 
light;  and,  thanks  to  this  union  of  choice  spirits,  the  genius 
of  Italy  was  aroused,  literature  came  to  the  fore,  the  arts 
thrived,  and  a  refined  delicacy  was  diffused  into  every  liberal 
study.  Let  us  not  stir  from  this  incomparable  Venice  of  ours 
and  we  will  see  that,  if  her  noblest  citizens — a  Daniel  Barbaro, 
a    Cardinal    Bembo,   a    Doge    Gritti,   a    Cardinal    Grimani,    a 


[181] 


THE   ART   OF   LIVING  LONG 

Giorgio  Trissino  of  Vicenza,  and  our  own  Cornaro — ^had  not 
lived,  the  world  would  perhaps  have  never  seen  a  Titian,  a 
Paolo  [Veronese],  a  Sammicheli,  a  Palladio.  How  many, 
indeed,  are  the  opportunities  of  an  intelligent  protector! 
Besides  showing  himself  liberal  of  his  substance,  he  converses 
with  his  learned  friend,  whose  inventions  and  fancies  are  thus 
fostered ;  he  goes  to  the  office  of  the  rich  merchant,  into  whom 
he  transfuses  the  enthusiasm  with  which  he  himself  is  filled;... 
nor  does  he  neglect  any  occasion  whatsoever  that  the  arts 
may  gloriously  flourish.  In  Greece,  the  mother  of  all  elegance 
and  philosophy,  the  Porticos  and  the  Piraeus  became  earth  and 
brambles,  once  the  ages  of  Pericles  and  Alexander  were  past ; 
and  in  earth  and  brambles  the  Laocoon  and  the  Apollo  for 
centuries  lay  buried. 

Among  the  many  artists  for  whom  Cornaro  entertained 
a  strong  affection, — proofs  of  which  he  has  left  us, — I  shall 
limit  myself  to  telling  you  of  one.  Giovanni  Maria  Falconetto* 
of  Verona,  who  excelled  as  painter,  architect,  and  sculptor, 
flourished  in  his  day.  This  man  was  a  good  speaker,  frank 
and  pleasant;  and,  after  having  wandered  hither  and  thither, 
he  found  a  refuge  in  the  hospitable  home  of  our  Cornaro, 
who  offered  him  the  most  generous  recognition.  These  two 
souls  were  soon  united  in  close  fellowship ;  and  there  followed 
many  learned  and  agreeable  conversations,  and  the  most 
valued  friendship  and  intimacy. 

A  large  collection  of  drawings,  which  Falconetto  had 
brought  with  him  from  Rome,  so  fascinated  Cornaro  with  the 
attractions  of  that  queenly  city  that  he  insisted  upon  going 
to  visit  it,  in  company  with  his  friend.  He  departed  for  Rome, 
rich  in  expectations ;  most  rich  in  knowledge,  he  returned  to 
his  beloved  Padua.  There  he  erected  a  magnificent  loggia, 
decorated  it  with  paintings,  statues,  and  pictures  taken  from 
the  designs  of  Raphael,  and  inclosed  in  its  courtyard  a  most 
noble  casino,  devoted  to  music — all  under  the  superintendence 
and  according  to  the  directions  of  his  friend  Falconetto.  He 
also  availed  himself  of  his  assistance  in  other  grand  construc- 
tions at  his  villa  at  Codovico,  on  the  Paduan  hill,  and  at 
Luigiano,  near  Torreglia,  among  the  Euganean  Hills.     Nor 

*  See  Note  E 

[182] 


A   EULOGY   UPON    COKNAHO 

did  the  happy  alliance  between  the  Maecenas  and  the  artist 
ever  cease;  and  the  latter  was  comforted  at  his  death  by  the 
assurance  that  the  most  hospitable  kindness  would  ever  be 
lavished  upon  his  wife,  three  sons,  and  six  daughters,  the 
fortunes  of  all  of  whom  remained,  in  fact,  at  the  mercy  of  the 
credit  and  authority  of  their  patron  and  friend.  The  candid 
soul  of  Louis  bore  so  great  a  predilection  to  Falconetto  and 
another  happy  mind,  the  Paduan  Ruzzante,*  that  Vasari  has 
related,  in  his  works,  how  Cornaro  wished  that  Falconetto  and 
Ruzzante  should  be  buried  together,  and  that  he  might  be 
the  third  to  share  the  same  grave — in  order  that  (says  the 
historian)  "not  even  after  death  should  their  bodies  be 
separated,  whose  souls  friendship  and  virtue  had  united 
whilst  living." 

I  have  pointed  out  some  of  the  edifices  designed  and 
erected  by  Cornaro ;  and  it  will  be  pleasing  to  you,  gentlemen, 
if  I  remind  you  that  the  magnificent  loggia  raised  in  Padua 
is  still  in  existence  and  much  admired,  and  that  the  very  cele- 
brated architect  Sebastiano  Serlio  proposed  the  designs  of  this 
masterpiece  to  the  studious  as  a  model  worthy  of  imitation. 
Temanza,  in  his  account  of  the  life  of  Falconetto,  also  speaks 
to  us,  at  length,  of  the  buildings  erected  in  the  villa  at  Codo- 
vico,  where  he  still  found  remains  of  perfect  invention  and 
execution;  it  was  there  he  discovered  a  portrait  of  our  most 
honored  Maecenas,  one  that  I  should  like  to  see  decorating 
this  magnificent  hall  on  this  solemn  occasion  in  which  I  am 
striving  to  recall  his  deeds.  Temanza  was  not  well  informed 
when  speaking  to  us  of  the  palace  at  Luigiano,  which  he 
believed  had  been  built  near  the  Sile,  not  far  from  the  city  of 
Trevigio,  and  razed  by  time ;  but  to  the  culture  and  knowledge 
of  the  illustrious  Knight  Giovanni  de  Lazzara,  I  owe — and 
you  do,  likewise — the  pleasing  news  that  this  structure,  with 
its  truly  royal  stairways,  remains  standing  in  that  most 
delightful  spot  I  have  spoken  of  among  the  Euganean  Hills. 
It  has  become  the  property  of  the  famous  Bishopric  of  Padua, 
and  does  not  belie  the  estimate  given  of  it  in  his  day  by  our 
Francesco  Marcolini,  who,  in  one  of  his  dedications,  wrote 
thus:  "If  a  gentleman  wishes  to  learn  how  to  build  in  the 

*  See  Note  Q 

[183] 


THE   AUT   or   LIVING  LONG 

city,  let  him  come  to  the  Cornaro  Palace  at  Padua ....  If  he 
wishes  to  lay  out  a  garden,  let  him  also  find  his  model 
there.  ...  If  he  wants  to  build  in  the  country,  let  him  go  and 
see  at  Codovico,  at  Campagna,  and  at  other  places,  the 
structures  created  by  the  nobility  of  Cornaro's  great  soul .... 
If  he  wants  to  build  a  palace  fit  for  a  prince, — out  of  the  city, 
too, — let  him  go  to  Luvignano,  where  he  will  behold  a 
dwelling  worthy  to  be  inhabited  by  a  pontiff  or  an  emperor ; .  . . 
Cornaro  knows  all  there  is  to  know  in  this  and  in  the  rest  of 
human  undertakings,"  Note,  my  hearers,  that  the  engraver 
Marcolini  was  no  ordinary  man ;  but  was  indeed  a  most 
famous  artist,  and  so  skilled  in  the  mechanical  sciences  that 
he  was  praised  to  the  skies  by  Daniel  Barbaro  himself. 

And  here  I  wish  to  interrupt  my  narrative  a  while  to 
listen  to  you,  gentlemen,  who  take  pleasure  in  considering 
the  things  which  I  propound.  It  seems  to  me  you  would 
wish  to  rejoin :  "Granted,  that  thy  Cornaro  was  the  mirror 
of  Maecenases — and  who  does  not  know  that  to  them  the 
arts  owe  both  favor  and  increase?  and  we  may  add  that 
they  owed  these  same  things  at  one  time  to  the  majesty  of 
religion,  now  enfeebled,.  .  .and  also  to  many  men  of  wealth 
grown  poor  to-day.  Let  a  Cornaro  return  now,  and  with 
him  a  Titian  and  a  Paolo;  let  the  artists  return  in  throngs, — 
what  of  it?  Poor  father  of  a  family,  thou  dost  spend,  and 
indeed  waste,  for  that  son  of  thine  who  is  now  a  studious 
scholar  in  this  Academy,  but  who  runs  the  risk  of  remaining 
afterward  destitute,  without  bread  and  without  fortune! 
Poor  boy,  thou  burnest  the  midnight  oil  in  the  sweat  of  thy 
brow,  but  in  the  future  thou  wilt,  perforce,  be  inactive;  and 
it  would  be  wrong  to  dare  thee  to  the  field  of  valor,  where 
there  will  be  no  palms  to  gather  when  thou  hast  attained 
thy  end !" 

I  shall  not  invoke  the  shade  of  the  Venetian  Maecenas 
to  answer  similar  whisperings ;  for,  if  our  times  are  not  his, 
it  is  to  ours  we  must  conform.  I  wish  to  say,  however,  that 
many  unfounded  difficulties  proceed  from  vain  fears.  If 
religion,  the  comforter,  seems  to  have  become  feeble,  or  to 
have  lost  its  power  with  some,  the  neglect  of  a  few  is  not 


[184] 


A  EULOGY   UPON   COENAEO 

a  fault  to  be  laid  to  the  many;  and  all  know  that  a  society 
without  religion  is  like  a  ship  without  rudder  or  sails.  Do 
we  not  see  it  burning  bravely  in  the  hearts  of  our  ruler  and 
so  many  of  his  excellent  magistrates ;  burning  in  the  honored 
breasts  of  the  best  of  our  citizens;  burning  in  the  bosoms  of 
noble  matrons  and  of  the  humble  peasant  girls?  And  you 
need  but  enter  the  churches  to  see  the  solemn  services  always 
attended  by  throngs  of  people,  or  to  journey  through  the 
country  to  witness  respect  and  veneration  everywhere  mani- 
fested. 

It  is  only  too  true  that  the  murderous  weapons  from 
beyond  the  hills,  catching  us  unarmed,  deprived  us  of  a  great 
part  of  our  riches ;  and,  alas !  too  often  now  the  oak  stands 
bare  which  used  to  tower  in  vigor.  But,  perhaps,  rather  than 
to  the  lukewarmness  of  divine  worship  or  the  swords  of  the 
enemy,  we  might  attribute  to  other  causes  the  scarcity  of 
work  among  our  artists.  It  is  incessantly  repeated  that  we 
have  become  poor;  but  how  is  it,  then,  that  there  is  im- 
moderate luxury  in  all  that  regards  outward  pomp?  that  an 
Indian  fabric,  a  bit  of  Sevres  porcelain,  a  piece  of  Birming- 
ham earthenware,  the  gold  and  silver  spun  in  France  or 
Germany,  and  many  other  useless  but  costly  trifles  from 
foreign  countries,  never  lie  dusty  in  our  shops,  while  the  hands 
of  our  artists  are  idle?  Pray  do  not  lead  me  to  exclaim  that 
there  is  among  us  more  poverty  concerning  the  true  love  of 
our  country's  splendor,  than  poverty  of  goods. 

The  conditions  of  modern  Italy  would  with  difficulty 
give  us  back  a  Cornaro ;  but  there  must  be  other  means  for 
the  protection  of  the  arts,  even  without  so  much  power  as  his. 

This  Adria  of  ours  is  no  longer,  such  as  the  illustrious 
Roberti  depicted  it,  "Like  to  the  ancient  Tyre,  whose  navi- 
gators were  her  Phoenicians;  when  its  commerce,  which 
raised  up  the  towers  and  halls  of  the  lagoons,  at  the  same 
time  made  the  country  everywhere  populous  and  honored." 
Nevertheless,  for  an  active  Maecenas  of  the  arts,  an  earnest 
magistrate  is  often  sufficient;  frequently  one  enlightened 
citizen  is  enough,  or  the  wise  pastor  of  a  church ;  and,  indeed, 
we  see  active  Maecenases  in  not  a  few  of  the  latter,  who,  in 


[185] 


THE   ABT   OF   LIVING   LONG 

the  midst  of  rural  surroundings,  erect  magnificent  temples 
enriched  in  many  ways.  By  enthusiasm,  intelligence,  and 
activity,  we  shall  see  our  buildings  repaired  and  beautified, 
and  our  houses  more  properly  decorated  with  the  riches  of  our 
national  productions — thus,  in  a  word,  our  cities  ennobled. 
Call  to  mind,  gentlemen,  that  through  the  activity  and  fervor 
of  one  of  our  pastors  in  these  latter  days,  the  temple  of  Santi 
Giovanni  e  Paolo  has  been  transformed  into  a  magnificent 
gallery;  that  the  worthy  Knight  Morelli  has  there  rearranged 
and  enriched,  with  many  relics  of  the  fine  arts,  a  library,  the 
most  splendid  abode  Apollo  and  Minerva  could  have ;  that  the 
Prefect  of  the  Seminary,  Giannantonio  Moschini,  has  con- 
verted a  dilapidated  building  into  a  magnificent  and  ornate 
lyceum ;  that  our  most  illustrious  President,  whom  I  name 
not  to  flatter  but  to  honor,  and  who  is  always  intent  upon 
honorable  undertakings  which  nourish  the  arts  and  carry 
their  teachings  to  the  farthest  shores,  has  obtained  for  you 
from  our  rulers  the  means  by  which  this  Academy  now  ranks 
above  all  others.  Seeing  all  this,  let  us  rejoice  and  take  com- 
fort— you  especially,  most  learned  professors.  Rejoice  that 
you  are  the  fortunate  ministers  who  maintain  here  the  sacred 
fire  of  the  divine  works  of  the  intellect,  and  know  all  that  is 
exquisite  and  hidden  in  their  structure.  Take  comfort  in  the 
names  of.  .  .many  who  were  once  your  scholars  and  who  are 
now  the  solace  and  help  of  their  families,  their  brows  wreathed 
with  crowns  of  honor  woven  for  them  by  your  teachings. 
And  you,  dearest  youths,  who  are  this  day  prepared  to  receive 
new  and  much-desired  laurels,  never  pay  heed  to  the  reports 
spread  by  ignoble  fear,  but  redouble  your  earnestness  in  study ; 
and  you  will  thus  become  the  delight  of  your  friends  and  the 
honor  of  your  country. 

Let  us  return  now  to  Louis  Cornaro,  and  follow  him  in 
what  we  may  of  his  long  life ;  nor  let  us  abandon  him  until  its 
last  day.  Oh,  how  I  wish  the  chroniclers  had  been  less 
niggardly  to  us !  For,  history  having  passed  over  in  silence 
so  many  of  the  personal  acts  of  that  gentle  spirit,  we  cannot 
now  know  positively  either  all  his  works  or  many  of  his 
writings ;  but  must  be  content  with  the  little  we  have,  which, 


[186] 


A   EULOGY   UPON   CORNAKO 

like  the  plan  of  a  majestic  building,  suffices  only  to  make  us 
guess  at  the  grandeur  of  the  structure  and  the  splendor  of  its 
decorations.  The  few  letters  which  remain  to  us  from  his 
pen,  show  how  well  versed  he  was  in  every  noble  science; 
and,  being  addressed  to  great  men,  such  as  Bembo,  Speroni, 
Barbaro,  and  Fracastoro,  they  suffice  to  show  of  what  ex- 
cellence were  his  ties  of  friendship.  He  left  nothing  undone 
that  would  promote  intellectual  enjoyment.  The  celebrated 
tragedy,  "CEdipus,"  by  Giovanni  Andrea  dell'  Anguillara,  he 
caused  to  be  sumptuously  presented  under  his  own  roof  for 
the  recreation  of  the  Paduans.  The  "Canace"  of  Speroni  was 
also  to  have  been  given  in  Padua  with  singular  magnificence, 
and  to  our  Louis  was  entrusted  the  direction  of  the  perform- 
ance. Forcellini,  in  his  biography  of  Speroni,  relates  that 
Cornaro's  companions  in  this  were  Alessandro  Piccolomini 
and  Angelo  Beolco,  called  Ruzzante ;  and  that,  besides  hav- 
ing provided  music,  costumes,  and  luxurious  scenery  for  the 
beauty  of  the  performance,  he  had  prepared  a  great  banquet 
for  forty  chosen  gentlewomen  and  their  husbands,  the 
academician^  and  the  flower  of  the  men  of  merit  who  were 
at  that  time  in  Padua ;  but  the  unexpected  death  of  Ruzzante 
put  an  end  to  all  these  plans.  Finally,  we  know  how  deeply 
he  had  studied  the  works  of  Vitruvius  and  Leon  Battista 
Alberti;  and  that  he  was  much  praised  by  Andrea  Palladio, 
as  the  inventor  of  a  new  kind  of  stairway  introduced  into  his 
habitations.  Nor  is  that  all ;  for  he  dictated  various  treatises 
concerning  painting,  architecture,  music,  and  agriculture. 
But  the  only  writings  which  were  not  destroyed  by  time,  are 
the  discourses  upon  his  cherished  temperate  life — translations 
of  which  were  published  in  many  foreign  tongues — and  a 
learned  pamphlet  upon  our  lagoons,  which  he  used  to  style 
"the  most  strong  and  holy  ramparts"  of  his  dear  country. 

I,  who  like  to  borrow  the  words  of  the  aged,  which 
breathe  candor  and  simplicity  and  add  faith  to  speech,  beg 
you  to  hear  with  me  how  a  cultured  Tuscan  man  of  letters, 
Antonmaria  Graziani,  in  the  life  he  wrote  of  the  celebrated 
Commendone, — whose  secretary  he  was, — points  out  the  many 
blessings  which  our  Cornaro  was  in  the  habit  of  receiving 


[187] 


THE   AKT   OF   LIVING  LONG 

from  the  virtuous  temper  of  his  soul.  His  words  are  in  the 
Latin  tongue,  and  this  is  their  import  in  ours:  "This  most 
honorable  man,  whom  the  surname  of  Temperate  became  so 
well,  was  courted,  revered,  and  respected  by  all,  whether 
those  of  eminent  birth  or  those  distinguished  by  great  in- 
tellect; and  men  of  all  ranks  of  society  were  eager  to  visit 
him,  for  the  pleasure  of  hearing  his  conversation,  which  was 
always  moderate,  pleasant,  and  ingenious.  Prudence,  wis- 
dom, sagacity,  counsel,  and  liberality  formed  about  him  a 
most  beautiful  and  splendid  body-guard.  No  house  in  Padua 
was  more  looked  up  to  than  his ;  and  he,  always  magnificent 
and  bountiful,  never  ceased  to  bestow  upon  all — but,  in  an 
especial  manner,  upon  those  conversant  with  the  fine  arts — 
every  favor  of  a  generous  and  perfect  soul." .  . . 

But  I  shall  lead  you  at  length,  gentlemen,  to  the  last 
days  of  Louis  Cornaro;  and  it  will  be  sweet  to  you  to  know 
that  to  spend  one's  time  unceasingly  for  the  common  good 
is  to  lay  up  precious  consolation  for  the  last  hour  of  our  lives. 
And  here  I  shall  again  make  use  of  Graziani's  words,  that 
you  may  see  how  the  tranquil  and  restful  end  of  our  great 
man.  .  .was  as  serene  as  the  beautiful  sunset  of  an  unclouded 
day.  "The  good  old  man"  (I  follow  the  faithful  translation) 
"feeling  that  he  drew  near  the  end,  did  not  look  upon  the 
great  transit  with  fear,  but  as  though  he  were  about  to  pass 
from  one  house  into  another.  He  was  seated  in  his  little  bed 
— he  used  a  small  and  very  narrow  one ;  and,  at  its  side,  was 
his  wife,  Veronica,  almost  his  equal  in  years.  In  a  clear  and 
sonorous  voice  he  told  me  why  he  would  be  able  to  leave  this 
life  with  a  valiant  soul ;  and  he  expressed  the  best  wishes  for 
the  happiness  of  my  Commendone,  to  whom  he  insisted  upon 
writing  with  his  own  hand  a  letter  of  advice  and  consolation. 
He  told  me  he  thought  he  might  yet  survive  two  days ;  but, 
feeling  a  little  later  the  failure  of  vital  forces,  and  having 
received  anew  the  assistance  of  consoling  religion,  ...  he  ex- 
claimed :  'Glad  and  full  of  hope  will  I  go  with  you,  my  good 
God!'  He  then  composed  himself;  and  having  closed  his 
eyes,  as  though  about  to  sleep,  with  a  slight  sigh  he  left  us 
forever."     A  departure  joyful  and  enviable,  but  how  great  a 


[188] 


A   EULOGY   UPON    CORNAKO 

misfortune  to  the  world !  For  the  loss  of  men  of  so  great 
wisdom  is  irreparable ;  nor  is  anything  left  to  us  but  to  follow, 
as  far  as  may  be,  their  authority  and  example.  . . . 

Dear  and  noble  youths,  this  solemnity  is  sacred  chiefly 
to  you ;  and,  addressing  you,  I  shall  close  my  discourse.  With 
the  voice  of  warmest  affection,  I  urge  you  to  be  industrious 
in  winning  for  yourselves  the  patronage  of  the  prince  and  the 
assistance  of  the  Maecenas ;  and  never  again  to  forget  Louis 
Cornaro  and  the  artist  Falconetto,  his  friend.  Yes,  to-day 
also  you  will  find  protectors,  if,  having  made  for  yourselves 
a  treasure  of  all  domestic  virtues,  you  broaden  the  sphere  of 
your  intellect  with  a  great  variety  of  knowledge ;  and  if  you 
will  bear  in  mind  that  he  does  not  win  fame  and  celebrity 
who  is  slothful,  but  rather  does  he  who  works  night  and  day, 
so  far  as  human  nature  will  permit.  Livy  and  Plutarch  have 
described  for  us  Philopoemen,  an  illustrious  leader  of  armies, 
and  have  narrated  the  great  labors  and  efforts  which  bore 
him  to  celebrity.  Reynolds  set  that  general  as  an  example 
before  his  young  scholars,  and  showed  them  that  not  less 
arduous  are  the  labors  and  efforts  of  the  artist  who  would 
ascend  the  heights  of  immortality.  Therefore,  we  all  trust 
to  your  talent  and  good-will ;  and  by  you,  valiant  youths,  this 
city  will  continually  rise  to  greater  luster ;  which,  for  delight- 
fulness  of  climate,  vividness  of  genius,  holiness  of  institutions, 
majesty  and  splendor  of  buildings,  and  for  the  purest  milk 
afforded  the  three  divine  sister  arts,,  has  ever  been  famous 
throughout  the  whole  world. 


[189] 


"0  -flowerets  of  the  field!"  Sidddrtha  said, 

"Who  turn  your  tender  faces  to  the  sun, — 

Olad  of  the  light,  and  grateful  with  sweet  breath 

Of  fragrance  and  these  robes  of  reverence  donned, 

Silver  and  gold  and  purple, — none  of  ye 

Miss  perfect  living,  none  of  ye  despoil 

Your  happy  beauty.     0  ye  palms!    which  rise 

Eager  to  pierce  the  shy  and  drink  the  wind 

Blown  from  Malaya  and  the  cool  blue  seas; 

What  secret  know  ye  that  ye  grow  content. 

From  time  of  tender  shoot  to  time  of  fruit. 

Murmuring  such  sun-songs  from  your  feathered  crowns?' 

— Sir  Edwin  Arnold. 


THE  VILLAS 


Erected  by  Louis  Cornhro 


BY 


De.   Pkof.   EMILIO    LOYAKINI 

OF   THE 

Kbale  Liceo  Minghetti  of 
Bologna** 


rAMOUS  for  his  treatise,  "The  Temperate  Life,"  which 
has  not  only  been  translated  into  several  languages,  but 
has  seen  many  editions,  the  illustrious  Venetian  gentle- 
man, Louis  Cornaro,  deserves  imperishable  renown,  likewise, 
for  the  great  and  useful  love  which  he  bore  for  the  arts — 
particularly  for  architecture. 

"He  delighted,"  we  have  from  Serlio,  "in  all  the  noble 
arts  and  singular  attainments ;  and  especially  was  he  fond  of 
architecture."  It  was  in  the  latter  that  he  acquired  his  title 
to  undying  fame,  as  even  his  contemporaries  acknowledged. 
Among  these  was  Ortensio  Lando,  who,  wishing  to  praise 
him,  made  this  merit  precede  all  others  when  he  called  him 
"a  great  builder,  an  enthusiastic  hunter,  and  a  man  of  pro- 
found piety." 

*  See  Note  R 
**  From  Vol.  II.,  Nos.  VI.  -VII.,— April- July  1899,— of  "L'Arte"  of  Rome. 

[191] 


THE   ART    OF    LIVING   IjONG 

Architecture  was  not  for  him,  as  it  is  for  so  many,  purely 
a  luxury,  and  a  means  by  which  he  could  exhibit  his  riches 
to  the  envious  and  wondering  eyes  of  his  equals,  and  of  the 
world  in  general.  Rather  was  it  the  object  of  an  ardent  wor- 
ship ;  so  much  so  that  he  became  not  only  a  friend,  but  even 
a  helper  and  companion,  of  his  artist  proteges. 

He  studied  the  works  of  Vitruvius,  Leon  Battista  Alberti, 
and  other  writers,  and  visited  the  ancient  and  modern  archi- 
tectural monuments;  he  originated,  according  to  Palladio, 
"two  kinds  of  stairways";  and  he  composed  a  work  on 
architecture,  which  a  relative  of  his,  in  a  letter  dated  January 
27,  1554,  insisted  should  be  published;  but  nothing  came  of  it, 
and  it  has  never  been  known. 

Fortunately,  instead  of  a  treatise  on  the  subject,  he  left 
something  better  to  us,  in  the  form  of  several  very  hand- 
some buildings.  Much  more  would  he  have  left  had  his 
means  allowed  it ;  for,  as  Vasari  writes,  "He  was  a  man  of 
great  genius  and  of  a  truly  regal  spirit — the  truth  of  this 
statement  being  proved  by  so  many  of  his  honored  under- 
takings." This  opinion  is  perfectly  in  accord  with  that  of 
Pietro  Valeriano,  who,  in  a  Latin  dedication  of  a  work  to 
Cornaro,  wrote:  "To-day,  no  private  individual  understands 
better  than  you  the  science,  beauty,  and  elegance  of  construc- 
tion, or  has  more  artistically  turned  his  knowledge  to  practical 
use.  Had,  perchance,  a  destiny  worthy  of  your  great  soul 
befallen  you,  our  age  would  be  considered  inferior  to  no 
ancient  one  in  the  development  of  such  a  noble  art." 

What  he  did  accomplish,  however,  is  undoubtedly  well 
worthy  of  being  recorded.  The  ingenious  Francesco  Marco- 
lini,  an  expert  printer  and  artist,  and  designer  of  the  bridge 
"whence  Murano  watches  Venice,"  was  the  first  and  last  to 
prepare  a  list,  which  is  thus  the  only  one  we  have,  of  Cornaro's 
buildings. 

One  finds  this  list  in  a  letter,  dated  June  i,  1544,  in  which 
the  editor, — Marcolini, — dedicating  to  Cornaro  the  fourth 
book  of  Serlio,  writes:  "To  you  alone  can  one  give  the 
name  of  'executor'  of  true  architecture,  as  is  attested  by  the 


[192] 


CORNAKO'S    VILLAS 

splendid  edifices  ordered  by  your  superhuman  intellect.  If  a 
nobleman  or  private  gentleman  wishes  to  know  how  to  build 
in  a  city,  let  him  come  to  the  Cornaro  Palace  at  Padua; 
there  he  will  learn  how  to  construct  not  only  a  superb 
portico,  but  also  the  other  parts  of  sumptuous  and  com- 
fortable buildings.  If  he  wishes  to  adorn  a  garden,  let  him 
take,  as  a  model,  the  one  you  have  arranged,  not  only  under 
your  dwelling,  but  crossing  beneath  the  highroad  for  twenty 
paces — all  in  rustic  style.  If  he  is  desirous  of  building  in  the 
country,  let  him  go  to  Codevigo,  to  Campagna,  and  to  the 
other  places  where  he  will  find  the  buildings  which  are  the 
product  of  your  great  genius.  Whoever  wishes  to  build 
a  princely  palace — also  away  from  the  city — may  go  to 
Luvignano;  there  he  will  view,  with  astonishment,  a  mansion 
worthy  of  a  pope  or  an  emperor,  or,  at  any  rate,  of  any  prelate 
or  gentleman — a  mansion  erected  by  the  wisdom  of  your 
Excellency,  who  knows  all  that  is  possible  in  this  and  other 
human  achievements." 

With  all  the  exaggerations  to  be  noted  in  the  laudatory 
expressions  of  those  times,  Cornaro  is  by  Marcolini  called 
merely  the  "executor"  of  true  architecture ;  this  does  not  mean 
that  he  was  the  author  of  all  those  magnificent  edifices,  but 
rather  that  they  were  "ordered"  by  him,  as  is  added  later  on. 

It  ought  to  have  been  known  even  in  that  time — as 
Vasari  tells  us,  though  it  is  omitted  above — that,  even  if 
Cornaro  was  the  architect  of  his  palace  in  Padua,  "the  beau- 
tiful and  richly  ornamented  portico,"  close  by,  was  the  work 
of  the  skillful  Falconetto* — a  fact  which  is  also  mentioned  in 
the  inscription  existing  above  the  central  archway.  It  should, 
moreover,  be  remembered  that  Falconetto  "worked  a  great 
deal  with  the  said  Cornaro."  Without  further  proofs,  and 
without  any  documents,  we  think  it  quite  useless  at  the 
present  day  to  try  to  discover,  by  the  examination  of  the  archi- 
tectural style  alone  of  what  remains,  how  much  is  the  work 
of  the  one  and  how  much  that  of  the  other.  Equally  devoted 
to  classical  art,  they  lived  together  twenty-one  years  in  an 
uninterrupted  unison  of  feelings  and  ideas;  so  much  so,  that 

*  See  Note  E 

[193] 


THE   ART   OF   LIVING  LONG 

Cornaro  expressed  a  wish  that  he  might  be  buried  in  one 
tomb  with  his  friend — "so  that  their  bodies  might  not  be 
separated  in  death,  whose  souls  in  this  world  had  been  united 
by  friendship  and  virtue." 

With  these  facts  before  us,  it  does  not  seem  right  to 
accept  the  opinion  of  some,  who,  like  Temanza,  see  Falco- 
netto's  work  wherever  Cornaro  has  built ;  or  that  of  others  who 
attribute  all  to  Cornaro;  but,  until  further  proof  is  attain- 
able, it  would  be  wise  to  abstain  from  giving  any  positive 
opinion. 

The  portico,  together  with  other  parts  of  the  city  palace, 
has  been  described  and  commended  by  many;  and,  though  it 
is  not  widely  known,  there  are  always  foreigners  who  visit  it. 
But  who  goes  to  visit  the  edifices  mentioned  by  Marcolini, 
and  the  others  omitted  by  him,  all  away  from  the  city?  Not 
only  has  very  little  been  written  about  them,  but  some  of 
them  have,  unfortunately,  been  forever  lost. 

Last  summer,  while  traveling  through  the  Venetian 
country,  I  went  to  the  scenes  of  Cornaro's  work,  to  find  how 
much  had,  by  time  and  man,  been  left  of  the  buildings.  I  did 
not  find  all  that  he  had  built,  or  even  all  that  had  been  seen 
by  some  writers  at  the  end  of  the  last  century;  but  I  clearly 
saw  that  what  yet  remains  is  well  worth  illustrating  and 
writing  about.  Among  these  remains  is  a  fine  architectural 
work,  which,  until  now,  so  far  as  I  am  able  to  learn,  had  been 
forgotten;  I  also  found  some  useful  documents  in  the  course 
of  my  researches  in  the  archives.  Therefore,  uniting  the  fruits 
of  my  two  investigations,  I  deemed  it  well  to  make  known 
what  I  have  myself  learned  about  the  works  constructed  in 
the  country  by  the  illustrious  nobleman. 


It  is  well,  from  the  very  first,  to  make  a  distinction 
between  the  edifices  built  at  Cornaro's  own  expense  and  for 
his  own  use,  and  those  built  by  him  for  the  account  of 
Cardinal  Francesco  Pisani, — Bishop  of  Padua  from  1524  to 
1567, — for    whom    Cornaro    acted    as    administrator    during 


[194] 


CORNARO'S    VILLAS 

several  years.  The  distinction  is  readily  made;  for  there 
still  remain  the  documents  relating  to  Cornaro's  property, 
which  had  been  presented  at  different  times  to  the  officials  of 
the  Commune  of  Padua.  They  do  not  register  any  property 
at  either  Campagna  or  Luvigliano.  Here,  therefore,  his  work 
was  for  the  Bishopric  and  not  for  himself.  Let  us  now  com- 
mence with  these  two  places. 

At  Campagna  Lupia,  near  Dolo,  not  very  far  from  the 
lagoon,  is  a  large  farmhouse  which  belonged  to  the  Bishop  of 
Padua,  but  is  now  owned  by  a  gentleman  of  that  city.  It  was 
this  house  that  Temanza  recognized  as  the  one  mentioned 
by  Marcolini  as  Cornaro's  work;  though  he  arbitrarily  put  it 
to  the  credit  of  Falconetto,  and  published  it  as  such  in  his 
biographical  work,  in  1778. 

Twenty-four  years  later,  it  was  visited  by  the  publisher 
Pietro  Brandolese,  a  passionate  lover  of  artistic  researches 
relating  to  Venice,  who  described  it  minutely  in  an  un- 
published letter  to  Count  Giovanni  de  Lazzara,  as  follows: 
"At  a  short  distance  from  the  church,  or  rather  just  before 
coming  to  it,  is  a  country-house  belonging  to  the  Bishopric 
of  Padua,  built  by  Falconetto.  It  is  the  same  one  to  which 
Temanza  refers,  at  page  138  and  the  following  pages,  under 
the  simple  denomination  of  'seventeen  arches.'  It  is  wholly 
of  a  rustic  style,  built  of  brick  and  carefully  selected  stone. 
The  facade  is  formed  of  seventeen  arches  of  slight  propor- 
tions, flanked  by  very  strong  pillars.  There  is  no  aperture 
whatever  above  these,  and  the  facade  ends  with  a  simple  band 
which  serves  as  a  cornice.  Under  the  portico  the  building  is 
divided  into  three  parts  by  two  stairways  which  lead  to  the 
granaries,  the  central  section  receding  a  little  from  the  sides. 
Without  a  plan  before  us,  it  is  not  possible  to  describe  the 
arrangement  of  the  ground  floor,  which  possesses  every  con- 
venience for  farming  purposes :  rooms  for  the  peasants ; 
stables  for  cattle,  horses,  and  all  kinds  of  animals ;  cellars ;  etc., 
— all  very  cleverly  arranged.  The  vaults  are  wholly  in  brick 
— not  beams.  On  the  first  floor  are  the  granaries,  which  one 
can  enter  by  the  stairs,  as  well  as  from  the  terraces  by  means 

[195] 


THE   ART   OF    LIVING   LONG 

of  an  arched  bridge,  as  is  clearly  seen  by  what  remains  near 
the  courtyard  door.  This  door,  in  rustic  style,  is  nearly  all 
lost.  The  facade  of  the  portico  is  all  of  hewn  stone,  with 
apertures  cleverly  arranged,  corresponding  to  the  uses  of  the 
house  and  to  its  internal  disposition.  The  entire  building,  in 
fact,  gives  evidence  of  a  very  skillful  architect.  Its  plans 
would  serve,  to-day,  as  an  ingenious  model  for  a  farmhouse, 
with  due  allowance,  however,  for  all  the  modern  needs  which 
differ  from  those  of  that  age." 

The  Count  de  Lazzara,  fifteen  years  later,  in  a  letter 
which  was  published  by  Gamba,  warrants  the  statement  that 
Cornaro  had  "presided"  over  the  construction  of  this  farm- 
house, and  that  its  architect  was  his  guest.  But  not  even 
Bishop  Dondi  Orologio,  who  had  made  researches  for  him 
among  the  old  documents,  had  been  able  to  find  the  name  of 
this  architect,  or  of  any  other.  Wherefore  he  wrote  thus: 
'Tf  Temanza  speaks  of  the  beautiful  portico  at  Campagna  as 
having  been  built  by  Louis  Cornaro,  the  author  of  'The 
Temperate  Life,'  I  doubt  his  being  right.  Cornaro  was  the 
administrator  of  the  Bishopric  of  Padua  for  many  years; 
and,  under  the  date  of  August  17,  1546,  there  is  a  writing  of 
Cardinal  Pisani,  in  which  the  Bishop  admits  owing  the  afore- 
said Cornaro  11,120  ducats,  for  buildings  and  improvements 
made  by  him  on  the  property  of  the  Bishopric.  The  docu- 
ment does  not  say  where  the  buildings  were,  nor  where  the 
improvements  were  made;  perhaps,  among  the  former,  the 
one  at  Campagna  is  included." 

The  learned  Bishop  was  wise  in  presuming  only  that 
which  was  likely,  and  affirming  nothing  more.  If  it  is  prob- 
able that  Falconetto  may  have  had  something  to  do  with  it, 
there  are  no  proofs ;  so  it  is  useless  to  mention  his  name.  We 
may,  indeed,  believe  that  the  building  was  erected  during 
Cornaro's  administration;  and  the  fact  of  its  having  been 
attributed  to  him  since  1544,  in  a  letter  publicly  addressed 
to  him,  ought  to  be  more  than  sufficient  proof.  Under  such 
circumstances,  doubt  is  unreasonable. 

Certain    documents,    regarding    the    adjustment    of    the 


[196] 


COBIsrAEO's    VILLAS 

accounts  of  Cornaro  and  Cardinal  Pisani,  testify  that  the 
illustrious  administrator  was  occupied,  during  the  years  1532, 
'33,  and  '34,  in  establishing  throughout  the  lands  of  the 
Bishopric  the  system  of  farming  on  equal  shares ;  and  an 
eye-witness  tells  us  that  "at  Campagna  his  ambitions  in  this 
regard  were  fully  realized."  In  all  likelihood  that  was  the 
time  when  the  necessity  for  some  large  place  in  which  to  store 
the  harvest  was  most  felt ;  and  Cornaro  must  have  provided 
for  it  by  building  the  country-house  in  question.  There  are, 
in  fact,  records  of  an  account  for  stone  used  in  building  the 
barns  at  Campagna,  which  account  was  presented  to  the 
Cardinal.  The  place  was  commonly  called  "the  granary  of 
Campagna,"  and  it  was  also  designated  "the  episcopal  palace 
in  the  domain  of  Campagna."  It  is,  to-day,  in  much  the 
same  condition  as  described  by  Brandolese. 

Not  very  far  from  the  monumental  Abbey  of  Praglia — 
upon  a  little  eminence  at  the  foot  of  the  Euganean  Hills,  from 
which  one  commands  the  view  of  a  great  part  of  the  Paduan 
plain — rises  the  palace  at  Luvigliano,  to  which  ascent  is 
gained  from  the  east  and  west  by  superb  double  stairways. 
This  was  probably  the  site  of  the  old  village  church  and 
parish  house  which  were  demolished  and  built  elsewhere,  in 
1474,  at  the  expense  of  Bishop  Jacobo  Zeno,  to  make  way, 
perhaps,  for  the  new  building  and  the  adjacent  gardens.  At 
all  events,  the  palace  was  erected  and  completed  much  later 
by  Cornaro — as  Marcolini  tells  us — and,  consequently,  during 
his  administration ;  indications,  indeed,  are  not  wanting  to 
confirm  this  view. 

In  the  documents  pertaining  to  the  adjustment  already 
alluded  to,  this  palace  at  Luvigliano  is  likewise  mentioned  in 
reference  to  the  stone  employed,  as  well  as  to  other  building 
expenses.  It  is  also  likely  that  when  Cornaro  gave  up  his 
care  of  the  Bishopric's  property  the  palace  was  already  com- 
pleted, as  would  appear  from  the  allusion  referring  to  it,  found 
in  a  summary  of  his  administration :  "and  he  completed  the 
work  which  he  had  begun." 

Later,  during  the  incumbency  of  Francesco  and  Alvise 


[197] 


THE   ART   OF   LIVING  LONG 

Pisani, — prior  to  1570, — the  fine  doorways  leading  into  the 
park  and  courtyard,  the  fountain,  the  crenelated  battlements, 
and  other  things  of  more  or  less  secondary  importance,  were 
constructed  by  the  architect  Andrea  Da  Valle,  the  sculptor 
Agostino  Righetti,  and  others.  In  the  course  of  time  occurred 
other  small  additions  or  restorations ;  but  always  in  con- 
formity with  the  original  design  of  the  villa,  in  which  one  can 
admire,  to  this  day,  the  happy  intellect  that  created  it. 

This,  like  the  rest  of  Cornaro's  buildings,  has  been  at- 
tributed to  his  friend  without  any  proof  or  reason.  Selvatico 
alone  reasoned,  after  examining  the  palace,  that  "The  style 
of  architecture,  more  than  any  of  the  historical  notes,  dis- 
closes it  to  be  the  work  of  Falconetto" ;  and  he  added  this 
opinion :  "Though  not  everyone  may  be  contented  with  all 
that  adorns  this  structure,  none  can  help  admiring  the  beauty 
and  richness  of  its  design." 

Great  astonishment  was  felt  that  Cardinal  Francesco 
Pisani  visited  only  once — perhaps  in  1547,  and  just  for  a  few 
hours — that  superb  and  exquisite  palace  which  used  to  fill 
with  pride  the  hearts  even  of  those  who  had  merely  the  good 
fortune  to  own  property  in  its  neighborhood ;  as  was  the  case 
with  that  chaplain  who  wrote,  in  Latin,  this  inscription  on 
the  wall: 

^'langfeancus  canipanona,  nicknamed  ligneami- 
neus,  the  son  op  alexander,  chaplain  of  the 
church  of  the  father,  has  prepared  this  house, 
together  with  the  adjoining  hill  carefully  culti- 
vated by  him  and  covering  fifteen  fields,  near  the 
very  beautiful  palace  and  delightful  gardens  of  the 
bishopric,  in  the  village  of  livianus,  for  pleasure  and 
for    the    convenience    of    his    friends,    in    the    year 

MDLXIIl/' 

In  one  of  his  dialogues,  published  in  1561,  the  eminent 
jurist,  Marco  Mantova  Benavides,  puts  these  words  in  the 
mouth  of  Ulisse  Bassiani:  "You  certainly  do  the  place  [the 
suburban  villa  at  Bassanello]  a  wrong  no  less  than  does 
Cardinal  Pisani,  who  has  only  been  once  to  the  palace  which 


[198] 


COBNAKO'S    VILLAS 

he  has  constructed  at  Covigliano  [stc]  at  such  an  enormous 
expense  that  it  commands  the  admiration  of  all  who  see  it; 
and  even  then  he  did  not  remain  more  than  a  day."  Oh,  what 
were  the  quiet  pleasures  of  a  residence  in  such  a  place,  to  the 
ambition  of  a  Cardinal  who  was  eligible  to  the  papal  chair! 
He  abandoned  even  his  Bishopric  for  Rome! 


Louis  Cornaro,  on  the  other  hand,  knew  how  to,  and  did, 
find  such  pleasures;  and  all  the  things  he  had  built  for  him- 
self he  enjoyed  both  heartily  and  for  a  great  length  of  time. 
In  1542,  remembering  that  he  had  always  benefited  "literati, 
musicians,  architects,  painters,  sculptors,  and  others,"  and 
that  he  had  spent  "many  and  many  thousands  of  crowns  in 
stately  buildings  and  in  many  beautiful  gardens,"  to  Speroni 
he  prided  himself  that  he  knew  how  to  enjoy  every  happiness 
in  "such  well-arranged  habitations  and  beautiful  gardens  of 
his  own  creation."  And,  though  "many  who  attain  these 
things  do  not  generally  enjoy  them,"  he  promised  himself  that, 
thanks  to  his  temperate  life,  he  would  yet  continue  to  enjoy 
them  many  and  many  years — ^which  promise  he  certainly  ful- 
filled. Later,  in  his  happy  and  industrious  old  age,  he  again 
expressed  his  satisfaction  over  it;  and  he  delighted  to  tell 
how  he  divided  his  time  between  town  and  country.  To  this 
very  circumstance  we  are  indebted  to  him  for  some  interesting 
points  on  the  subject  of  our  research. 

"I  go,"  he  writes,  "in  April  and  May,  and  again  in 
September  and  October,  to  enjoy  a  country-seat  of  mine  in 
the  Euganean  Hills,  most  beautifully  situated,  with  its  gardens 
and  fountains,  and  especially  its  beautiful  and  comfortable 
dwelling.  I  sometimes  go  there,  also,  to  take  part  in  the 
pleasant  and  agreeable  hunting,  of  the  kind  suitable  to  my 
age.  I  enjoy,  for  as  many  days,  my  villa  in  the  plain,  which  is 
beautiful,  with  many  pretty  streets  all  meeting  in  a  fine 
square,  in  the  center  of  which  stands  its  church,  highly 
honored,  as  befits  the  importance  of  the  place.  The  villa  is 
divided  by  a  wide  and  rapid  branch  of  the  river  Brenta,  on 


[199] 


THE   AET   OF   LIVING  LONG 

either  side  of  which  the  country  extends  in  cultivated  and 
fertile  fields ;  and  it  is  now — the  Lord  be  thanked ! — very  well 
populated,  which  before  was  certainly  not  the  case,  but  rather 
the  opposite,  as  it  was  marshy  and  malarial,  and  more  suited 
to  snakes  than  to  men.  After  I  had  drained  off  the  water,  the 
air  became  pure,  and  people  began  to  settle;  the  inhabitants 
multiplied  greatly,  and  the  place  grew  to  the  perfect  state 
in  which  one  sees  it  to-day.  I  can,  therefore,  truly  say  that 
in  this  place  I  gave  to  God  an  altar,  a  temple,  and  souls  to 
worship  Him." 

This  is  the  village  of  Codevigo,  about  four  miles  distant 
from  Piove  di  Sacco ;  here  the  records  of  the  Paduan  Com- 
mune indicate,  in  addition  to  the  numerous  and  extensive 
possessions  of  Cornaro,  a  house  for  his  own  use,  "with  a 
courtyard,  kitchen-garden,  orchard,  and  vineyard"  of  about 
the  size  of  "five  fields."  One  of  his  nephews,  in  a  letter, 
describes  it  as  follows:  "His  country-seat,  both  comfortable 
and  adapted  to  agriculture,  is  built  according  to  the  finest 
architecture,  and  is  stronger  and  more  commodious  than  any 
other  in  the  neighborhood.  He  wished  to  construct  the  vaults 
entirely  of  stone,  so  as  to  be  safe  in  case  of  fire,  war,  or  any 
other  calamity."  Marcolini  also  confirms  that  it  was  built  by 
Cornaro. 

In  the  same  village, — according  to  this  nephew, — besides 
the  beautiful  church  which  he  transformed  from  the  un- 
attractive structure  it  had  formerly  been,  and  the  altar  of 
which  Cornaro  himself  spoke,  he  also  built  the  bridge  over  the 
river  Brenta — "a  work  worthy  not  only  of  a  single  individual 
but  of  a  whole  community" — as  well  as  many  houses  for  the 
farmers.  But,  in  the  course  of  time,  much  of  all  this  was  lost ; 
and  there  remains,  at  present,  even  less  than  was  seen  by 
Temanza  and  Brandolese. 

Temanza,  who  always  returned  gladly  to  those  places  to 
see  Cornaro's  edifices,  which  he  judged  as  "works  of  merit 
and  worthy  of  being  imitated,"  wrote  in  the  following  man- 
ner: "At  the  village  of  Codevigo  in  the  country  round  Padua, 
situated  on  the  right  bank  of  the  river  Brenta, — which,  in  that 


[200] 


CORNAKO'S    VILLAS 

part,  is  called  Brentone, — Cornaro  owned  an  enormous  estate. 
The  health  of  the  place  was  impaired  by  stagnant  waters,  for 
the  drainage  of  which  no  means  had  as  yet  been  provided ;  and 
he,  who  for  those  times  was  learned  in  hydrostatics,  reduced  the 
marshes  to  dry  land,  improved  the  condition  of  the  atmosphere, 
and  thereby  caused  a  great  increase  in  the  number  of  settlers. 
He  first  built  the  parish  church,  dedicated  to  the  prophet 
Zacharias.  He  then  constructed  a  noble,  though  not  very 
large,  palace,  with  porticos  and  courtyards,  as  becomes  a  villa. 
All  these  buildings  are  the  work  of  Giovanni  Maria  [Fal- 
conetto].  A  majestic  doorway  forms  the  entrance  to  the 
palace.  It  has  two  Ionic  columns  on  the  sides,  a  rich  cornice, 
and  a  majestic  frontispiece,  which  bears,  carved  in  the  center 
of  its  upper  part,  a  large  eagle  with  wings  outspread.  This 
edifice  has  two  stories ;  the  first  is  vaulted,  the  second  has 
rafted  ceilings.  The  lower  part  of  the  church  fagade, — which 
is  in  Doric  style, — as  well  as  the  doorway  and  windows, 
reminds  one  of  the  style  of  Falconetto.  The  altar  bears  the 
same  character,  and  has  a  fine  terra-cotta  bas-relief  of  good 
workmanship,  representing  a  scene  in  the  life  of  the  prophet 
Zacharias." 

One  cannot  imagine  where  Temanza  obtained  his  in- 
formation about  the  priority  of  the  building  of  the  church,  or 
the  certainty  that  all  these  edifices  were  due  to  Falconetto, 
though  his  writings  are  decidedly  of  value;  for,  as  early  as 
1802,  vandal  hands  had  begun  to  destroy  these  monuments. 

As  good  fortune  would  have  it,  in  that  very  year,  on  the 
eighth  of  July,  Brandolese  happened  to  be  there ;  and  he  gave 
to  Count  de  Lazzara  the  following  narrative  of  his  experience : 
"I  proceeded  eagerly  to  Codevigo,  to  learn  what  remained 
there  of  Falconetto's  work.  The  church  does  not  exist  any 
more,  except,  as  you  know,  the  Doric  part  of  the  fagade;  and 
of  these  remains  I  admired  the  model  and  the  elegance  of 
different  parts.  On  entering  the  church  to  see  the  altar,  I 
found  that  the  place  where  it  used  to  exist  was  in  the  course 
of  reconstruction,  and  saw  the  original  pieces  thrown  care- 
lessly on  the  ground.     I  inquired  what  was  to  be  the  fate  of 


[201] 


THE   ART   OF   LIVIIs^^G   LONG 

this  fine  monument,  and  learned  that  it  was  to  be  reduced  and 
refitted  for  a  new  chapel.  I  pleaded  with  the  parish  priest 
that  it  might  be  rebuilt  as  it  was  original!}',  and  I  trust  I  have 
obtained  the  favor.  I  observed  the  archway  in  the  buildings 
close  by,  now  belonging  to  the  Foscari  family;  and  I  admired 
more  than  ever  the  wise  investigator  of  the  remains  of  Roman 
art." 

Brandolese's  words  were  heeded,  and  the  exquisite  altar 
remains  to  this  day,  though  without  the  table  and  the  terra- 
cotta bas-relief;  and  it  occupies  the  chapel  to  the  left  of  the 
principal  altar. 

The  old  bridge,  and  the  doorway  of  the  Cornaro  Palace, 
however,  exist  no  longer.  The  building  has  been  repeatedly 
modified,  and  now  presents  nothing  especially  worthy  of 
notice ;  only  a  few  stones,  which  may  have  formed  the  base  of 
the  columns  of  the  doorway,  still  lie  scattered  about  under  the 
courtyard  portico.  The  faqade  of  the  church,  which  is  Doric 
below  and  Corinthian  above,  had  been  recently  whitened ;  and 
the  old  steeple,  which  leaned  so  greatly  to  one  side  as  to 
threaten  a  collapse,  had  been  supported  with  a  buttress 
extending  nearly  to  the  belfry. 


We  have  yet  to  speak  of  the  other  villa  mentioned  by 
Cornaro  before  he  spoke  of  Codevigo.  He  does  not  name  it, 
but  only  says  it  was  in  the  Euganean  Hills  and  "in  their  most 
beautiful  spot."  Some  thought  of  Luvigliano,  and  supposed 
that  he  had  there  taken  to  draining  the  marshes,  felling  the 
woods,  breaking  up  the  ground,  and  cultivating  the  lands; 
and  they  said  that  the  fact  of  his  having  breathed  the  pure  air 
of  that  place  was  one  of  the  causes  which  prolonged  his  life 
to  a  very  old  age.  Gamba  believed  that  it  did  not  become  the 
property  of  the  Bishopric  of  Padua  until  sometime  later;  but 
such,  as  we  have  seen,  it  had  always  been ;  and  we  cannot  be- 
lieve that  the  noble  Cornaro  considered  it,  even  during  his  ad- 
ministration, as  his  own  property,  or  lived  there  as  if  it  were 
his  own  home.    Of  which  place,  then,  does  he  mean  to  speak? 


[202] 


COENAEO'S    VILLAS 

Not  one  of  the  many  who  have  written  about  him  has  ever  yet 
told  us,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  in  1842,  among  the 
collection  of  Venetian  inscriptions  edited  by  Cicogna,  was 
published  the  letter  of  Cornaro's  nephew,  already  mentioned, 
which  explains  that  this  villa  was  at  Este. 

"He  created,"  writes  the  nephew,  "on  a  hill  near  Este,  a 
delightful  garden,  full  of  divers  and  delicate  fountains  and 
perfect  grapes."  And,  continuing :  "In  his  youth  he  delighted 
in  hunting  big  game,  such  as  wild  boar  and  the  stag;  and,  as 
such  animals  were  not  to  be  found  in  this  country  [near 
Padua],  but  in  the  territory  of  Este  divided  by  an  arm  of  the 
Po  [sic],  he  built  there  a  comfortable  hunting  residence;  and 
annually,  for  many  a  year,  he  used  to  go  there,  killing  a  large 
number  of  these  animals,  which  he  either  sent  to  some  of 
his  friends,  or  else  distributed  in  Venice  or  Padua,  When  the 
sport  was  at  its  end,  he  had  a  comedy  prepared  and  given  in 
his  own  hall,  which  he  had  built  in  imitation  of  the  ancient 
ones.  The  stage  was  made  of  durable  stone;  but  the  part 
reserved  for  the  audience  was  of  wood,  so  that  it  could  be 
taken  down  and  removed.  These  performances  were  all  very 
successful,  as  he  had  living  with  him  some  clever  artists,  such 
as  the  famous  *Ruzzante." 

Furthermore,  the  Paduan  records  confirm,  without  any 
doubt,  that  he  owned  "a  house  on  the  hills  outside  the  gates 
of  Este,  with  an  orchard  and  a  vineyard  of  six  fields,"  which 
he  kept  for  his  private  use. 

Carefully  examining  all  the  records,  as  well  as  all  the 
histories  of  Este  that  have  ever  been  published,  I  found — and 
that  in  a  monograph  of  1851— ^only  the  following  uncertain 
allusion  to  a  Cornaro  Villa  built  at  that  place:  "Beyond  [the 
Kunkler  Palace]  to  the  left,  is  a  palace,  perhaps  in  old  days 
that  of  Cornaro,  and  later  belonging  to  the  Farsetti  family ;  it 
is  built  on  a  beautiful  height,  and  has  been,  according  to  the 
designs  of  Japelli,  enlarged  and  improved  with  great  taste  by 
its  present  owner.  Doctor  Adolfo  Benvenuti." 

I  then  went  to  Este  to  find  this  Villa  Benvenuti;  and,  to 
my  surprise  and  delight,  I  found  at  the  entrance  of  the  garden 

*  See  Note  Q 

[203] 


THE   ART   OF    LIVING   LONG 

a  fine  archway  of  classic  style,  in  which  I  thought  I  saw  no 
little  resemblance  to  the  architectural  works  of  Cornaro  and 
Falconetto.  The  situation  of  the  villa  coincides  precisely  with 
the  description  in  the  records  of  Padua;  for  we  find,  by 
examining  old  topographical  maps,  that,  in  order  to  get  to  it 
from  the  center  of  the  city,  it  was  necessary  to  pass  the  Santa 
Tecla  gate,  which  was  demolished  centuries  ago. 

The  archives  of  the  city  of  Este  contained  nothing  that 
could  convert  my  supposition  into  certainty ;  but  a  few  days 
later,  while  examining  the  old  papers  of  the  Bishopric  of 
Padua,  I  came  upon  a  contract  of  1650,  in  which  the  Procura- 
tor Giovanni  Battista  Cornaro  had  leased  to  Giorgio  Cornaro, 
Bishop  of  Padua,  for  ten  years,  "his  palace  at  Este,  near  the 
convent  of  the  Capuchins,  with  all  its  fields,  kitchen-gardens, 
orchards,  parks,  fountains,  vineyards,  etc."  To  this  contract 
was  annexed  a  minutely  detailed  inventory  of  the  furniture  in 
the  house.  This  document  dispelled  all  my  doubts,  as  many 
details  mentioned  in  it  are  identical  with  the  views  of  the  Villa 
Farsetti  and  its  garden,  drawn  by  Coronelii  in  the  beginning 
of  the  eighteenth  century ;  and  other  particulars  have  been 
preserved,  and  are  noticeable  to  this  day,  in  the  Villa 
Benvenuti.  This  villa,  belonging  formerly  to  the  Farsetti 
family,  is  therefore  none  other  than  the  old  Villa  Cornaro:  it 
is  near  the  convent  of  the  Capuchins,  and  nearer  to  it  is  the 
house  of  the  farmer  who  has  charge  of  it ;  just  as  we  know 
that  the  palace  of  the  Procurator  Cornaro  was  near  the 
convent,  and  that  nearer  still  was  the  house  of  his  steward. 

In  the  Benvenuti  garden  there  is  running  water,  which 
is  very  scarce  in  these  hills ;  this  is  made  to  pass  through  lead 
pipes.  In  fact,  we  find  recorded  in  the  inventory  ''eighty-six 
pipes  of  lead,  weighing  2080  lbs.,"  to  be  used  for  the  fountains. 
And,  furthermore,  a  historian  of  Este,  in  1743,  published  the 
following:  "There  is  Cavalier  Farsetti's  villa  near  the 
convent  of  the  Capuchins,  where  the  house,  being  an  un- 
pretentious one,  does  not  arouse  great  curiosity  to  see  it ;  but 
the  site  and  the  playing  fountains  are  worthy  to  be  considered, 
and  the  place  has  frequent  visitors."      If    we    also    examine 


[204] 


CORNAEO  S    VILLAS 

minutely  the  engravings  of  Coronelli  we  shall  see  a  portico  of 
seven  arches  under  the  palace ;  in  the  garden  a  large  stairway, 
with  many  flower  vases  on  pedestals  on  each  side ;  and,  close 
by,  two  vine  trellises.  The  inventory,  furthermore,  mentions 
a  portico  below  in  the  front  of  the  palace ;  a  stairway  on  the 
outside;  numerous  boxes  and  vases  of  plants — among  them 
lemon  trees,  orange  trees,  and  prickly-pear  trees ;  fifty 
pedestals  of  stone  for  the  orange  trees ;  and  vine  trellises 
supported  by  columns  of  stone,  connected  by  iron  arches. 

These  comparisons  are  more  than  sufficient  to  establish 
the  identity  of  the  two  villas.  But,  in  ending,  I  shall  not  omit 
to  add  another  piece  of  information  furnished  by  the  inven- 
tory. In  it  is  a  full  list  of  an  interesting  collection  of  pictures 
Vv^hich  were  distributed  about  the  rooms  of  the  palace.  Among 
them,  besides  "a  Cornaro  coat  of  arms  painted  on  canvas,"  and 
a  portrait  of  the  well-known  Queen  of  Cyprus,  there  is  a 
painting  of  Ruzzante,  the  protege  and  affectionate  friend  of 
Louis  Cornaro,  who  used  to  frequent  with  him  these  lovely 
hills,  and  who,  after  the  hunting,  would  recite  in  the  hall 
which  Cornaro  had  built  in  his  own  house.  Of  this  hall  there 
is  now  no  vestige ;  and  the  palace  is  really  no  longer  the  one 
of  yore,  as  the  architect  of  the  Cafife  Pedrocchi  has  repaired  it 
on  an  extensive  scale.  But  Coronelli's  engraving  remains,  and 
it  gives  us  some  idea  of  the  physiognomy  of  the  building 
erected  by  the  famous  author  of  "The  Temperate  Life." 

We  can  suppose  the  same  about  the  garden,  on  com- 
paring the  other  engraving,  where  we  see  the  stairway 
leading  from  the  courtyard  to  the  first  floor  of  the  palace,  but 
not  the  classical  archway  which  stood  at  the  foot  of  it.  And 
yet  the  engraver  Sebastiano  Giampiccoli  did  not  omit  to 
picture  it — though  very  imperfectly — with  the  garden  and 
stairway,  the  palace  and  the  large  lateral  conservatories ;  as 
did  also  an  amateur,  who,  in  1775,  engraved  a  panorama  of  the 
city.  We  find  it  more  faithfully  reproduced  in  the  "Design 
of  the  Ancient  City  of  Este,"  of  1566,  which  accompanies  the 
unpublished  history  of  Michele  Lonigo,  to  be  found  in  the 
Estense  Library  of  Modena.     This  drawing  proves  that  the 


[205] 


THE   AKT    OF    LIVING   LONG 

archway  was  there  at  least  as  early  as  the  year  following 
Louis  Cornaro's  death,  and  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  it 
was  he  who  built  it ;  this  supposition  is  strengthened  by  the 
proofs  of  the  great  resemblance  between  the  architectural 
style  of  this  arch  and  the  works  of  Cornaro  and  his  friend 
Falconetto. 

The  Este  archway  belongs  to  the  Roman  style,  of  which 
the  two  were  such  enthusiastic  admirers;  and  it  is,  indeed,  a 
free  imitation  of  the  archway  of  Janus  Quadrifrons,  erected 
in  Rome  not  earlier  than  the  reign  of  Caracalla,  or  that  of 
Septimius  Severus,  or,  according  to  some,  as  late  as  the  time 
of  Constantine.  In  the  treatises  on  architecture  of  the  six- 
teenth century  it  had  already  taken  its  place  among  the 
models.  Furthermore,  the  two  architects,  Cornaro  and  Fal- 
conetto, must  certainly  have  seen  and  examined  it,  during 
their  visits  to  Rome  to  study  the  building  art  of  the  ancients. 

In  the  modern,  as  well  as  in  the  ancient  arch,  there  are 
small  niches,  with  vaultings  in  the  shape  of  shells ;  but  in  the 
former  their  number  was  reduced  from  twelve  to  eight  in  the 
first  two  divisions,  and  were  omitted  altogether  in  the  third 
to  the  summit  of  the  arch,  on  which  there  was  simply  an  attic, 
as  on  others  of  Falconetto's  arches — but  without  inscriptions 
or  figures.  The  style  of  the  little  pillars  between  the  niches 
is  not  varied  as  in  the  Roman  model ;  but  only  the  Composite 
is  used,  which  was  also  called  Triumphal,  from  the  triumphal 
archways.  The  grand  arch  itself  rests  on  two  protruding  sills, 
the  keystone  is  sculptured,  and  the  panaches  are  ornamented 
by  two  flying  Victories  with  their  torches  extended.  These 
particulars,  which  are  wanting  in  the  arch  of  Janus,  are  found 
in  the  works  of  Falconetto  and  the  buildings  erected  by 
Cornaro.  In  fact,  the  jambs  of  the  famous  portico  present  the 
same  shape  as  the  archway — fine  or  heavy,  as  the  case  may 
be.  Besides,  the  central  arch  of  the  portico  bears  two  sculp- 
tured Goddesses  of  Fame,  undoubtedly  different  and  better, 
but  respectively  analogous  in  the  attitude  of  the  arms ;  and  the 
next  two  parts  of  the  archways  inclose  here,  likewise,  a  head 
of  a  satyr  with  ram's  horns — an  ornament  used  by  the 
Veronese  artist  also  on  the  exterior  of  the  gate  of  Savonarola. 


[206] 


GOEXAEO  S    VILLAS 

One  could  find  other  analogies  beyond  these,  of  which 
there  is,  perhaps,  no  need.  Let  us  observe,  instead,  a 
difference  which  seems  to  contradict.  The  proportion 
between  the  width  and  the  height  of  the  opening  in  the  Este 
archway  is  less  than  one-half;  Falconetto,  instead,  always 
made  the  breadth  surpass  half  of  the  height.  But  we  must 
know  here  that,  as  Japelli  had  to  lower  the  level  of  the  court- 
yard, he  lowered  also  the  ground  under  the  arch  and 
lengthened  the  ends  of  the  pillars,  as  is  told  us  by  the  people 
of  the  place,  and  as  is  visible  by  the  difference  in  the  new  stone 
which  was  used.  To  him,  therefore,  is  due  the  alteration ;  and 
it  does  not  in  the  least  weaken  the  supposition  that  it  was 
erected  by  Cornaro,  perhaps  with  Falconetto's  aid. 


Though  my  effort  to  arrive  at  this  conclusion  may,  after 
all,  appear  to  some  a  useless  one,  surely  it  will  not  be  judged 
so  by  those  who  reflect  that  I  have  called  the  attention  of  the 
learned  to  a  fine  work  of  the  closing  period  of  the  Venetian 
Renaissance — one  which  no  one  had  as  yet  brought  to  notice. 

Emilio  Lovarini. 


[207] 


This  is  the  excellent  foppery  of  the  worlds,  that 
when  we  are  sick  in  fortune — often  the  surfeit  of  our 
own  behavior — we  make  guilty  of  our  disasters  the  sun, 
the  moon,  and  the  stars:  as  if  we  luere  villains  by  neces- 
sity, fools  by  heavenly  compulsion;  knaves,  thieves,  and 
treachers,  by  spherical  predominance ;  drunkards,  liars, 
and  adulterers,  by  an  enforced  obedience  of  planetary 
influence;  and  all  that  we  are  evil  in,  by  a  divine  thrust- 
ing on:  an  admirable  evasion  of  man,  to  lay  his  goatish 
disposition  to  the  charge  of  a  star! — "King  Lear." 


NOTES 


A — According  to  the  official  count  of  the  returns  of  the  Twelfth 
Census,  (Census  Reports,  Vol.  II.,  pp.  XXXVI.  and  XXXVIIL), 
the  population  of  the  mainland  of  the  United  States  (excluding 
Alaska,  Hawaii,  and  persons  in  the  military  and  naval  service  of 
the  United  States,  stationed  abroad)   was,  in   1900,  as  follows: 

Total  Males  Females 

75-994,575  38,816,448  (5i-i  per  cent.)  37,178,127  (48.9  per  cent.) 

The  number  of  persons  returned  as  90  years  of  age  and  over 
was   33,762,  classified  by  sex  and  age  groups  as   follows: 

Total  Men  Per  cent.  Women  Per   cent. 

90  to  94  years            23,992  9,858           41. i  14,134            58.9 

95  to  99  years              6,266  2,417            38.6  3,849           61.4 

100  years  and  over       3,504  1,271            2^.2  2,233            63.7 

B — John  Witt  Randall  (1813 — 1892)  was  a  great-grandson  of  Samuel 
Adams,  the  American  Revolutionary  patriot.  This  poem  was  selected 
by  William  Cullen  Bryant  for  publication  in  his  review  of  Randall's 
"Consolations  of  Solitude."  The  article  appeared  in  the  New  York 
"Evening  Post"  of  December  17,  1856.  The  poem  is  here  reproduced 
by  courtesy  of  Francis  Ellingwood  Abbot,  editor  of  Randall's  "Poems 
of  Nature  and  Life"   (George  H.  Ellis,  Boston,  1899). 

C — In  the  selections  from  Addison,  Bacon,  Temple,  etc.,  the 
spelling  and  punctuation  have  been,  to  some  extent,  modernized. 
The  Bacon  article  is  not  an  unbroken  section  of  his  works,  but  a 
collection  of  many  short  passages,  in  the  arrangement  of  which  we 
have  avoided  the  use  of  the  customary  indication  of  omissions  of 
irrelevant  matter.  The  same  is  true  of  the  article  from  Temple's 
works. 

The  given  name  of  the  author  of  "The  Temperate  Life"  has  long 
been  familiar  to  his  English  readers  in  its  anglicized  form;  and  we 
have  thought  it  best,  in  speaking  of  the  members  of  his  family,  to 
insert  the  English  equivalents  of  their  names,  where  such  exist,  with 
the  object  of  bringing  the  work  as  near  as  possible  to  the  general 
reader. 

D — The  Di  Spilimbergo  family  was  an  Italian  patrician  branch  of 
a  house  of  German  origin,  which,  as  early  as  the  13th  century,  resided 
and  ruled  in  that  part  of  Friuli,  in  northern  Italy,  known  as  Spilim- 
bergo.    This  noble  and  ancient  house  was  very  powerful,  exercising — 

[209] 


THE   ART   OF   LIVING   LONG 

in  some  cases  feudal,  in  others  allodial — lordship  over  many  vast 
estates,  among  which  were  the  castles  of  Spilimbergo,  Zuccola,  Solim- 
bergo,  Flambro,  Belgrade,  and  others.  The  family,  ennobled  in  1532 
by  Emperor  Charles  V.,  numbered  among  its  eminent  members  many 
soldiers,  statesmen,  prelates,  and  artists — one  of  the  latter  being  the 
famous  painter,  Irene  di  Spilimbergo  (1540-1559).  The  city  of  Spilim- 
bergo,— of  which  the  population  in  1901  was  2,331, — on  the  Tajamento, 
14  miles  west  of  Udine,  was  named  after  this  family. 

E — Giovanni  Maria  (John  Mary)  Falconetto,  one  of  the  most 
eminent  of  Italian  architects,  was  born  at  Verona,  in  1458.  He 
studied  architecture  at  Rome,  then  returned  to  Verona,  later  making 
his  home  in  Padua.  Greatly  improving  the  style  of  architecture  in 
the  Venetian  states,  he  designed  and  constructed  many  admirable 
buildings  and  other  works  in  Padua,  Verona,  and  elsewhere.  His 
masterpiece,  the  celebrated  Cornaro  Loggia  in  Padua,  suggested  to 
Palladio  the  design  of  his  villa  at  Vicenza,  the  famous  Rotonda  Capra; 
the  latter— once  one  of  the  greatest  monuments  of  modern  archi- 
tectural art,  and  described  by  Goethe  as  a  marvel  of  splendor — has, 
in  its  turn,  served  as  a  copy  for  others,  among  them  the  beautiful 
Chiswick  House,  the  villa  of  the  dukes  of  Devonshire,  at  Chiswick, 
England.  In  the  Church  of  San  Antonio,  in  Padua,  the  Cappella  del 
Santo,  so  remarkable  for  its  grandeur  and  beauty,  was  completed  by 
him.     He  died  in  1534. 

F — Claudius  Galenus,  commonly  known  as  Galen,  the  most 
eminent  physician,  as  well  as  one  of  the  most  learned  and  accom- 
plished men,  of  his  day,  was  born  at  Pergamus,  in  Mysia,  Asia  Minor, 
A.  D.  130.  At  the  age  of  fifteen  he  studied  logic  and  philosophy  at 
his  native  city;  two  years  later  he  began  the  study  of  medicine,  con- 
tinuing it  at  Smyrna,  Corinth,  and  Alexandria.  At  the  age  of  thirty- 
four  he  removed  to  Rome;  there  he  gained  great  fame,  and  became 
the  physician  of  the  illustrious  philosopher.  Emperor  Marcus  Aurelius 
Antoninus,  as  well  as  of  the  Emperors  Lucius  Verus,  Lucius  Aurelius 
Commodus,  and  Lucius  Septimius  Severus.  He  was  born  with  a  very 
delicate  constitution;  yet,  by  living  a  strictly  temperate  life  and  never 
fully  satisfying  his  appetite,  he  was  enabled  to  attain  great  age. 
The  place  and  date  of  his  death  are  uncertain,  occurring,  according 
to  some  historians,  at  his  native  city,  in  the  year  201;  while  others 
place  the  date  as  much  as  eighteen  years  later.  There  are  good 
reasons   for  believing  the   latter  to  be   correct. 

Galen  confessed  himself  greatly  indebted  to  the  writings  of 
Hippocrates,  who  preceded  him  about  six  centuries,  and  who  is  known 
as  The  Father  of  Medicine.  He  was  an  extensive  writer  on  medicine 
and  philosophy,  as  well  as  on  logic  and  ethics;  of  his  works  there 
are  still  in  existence  eighty-three  treatises,  besides  fifteen  com- 
mentaries on  the  works  of  Hippocrates.     For  thirteen  hundred  years, 

[210] 


NOTES 

throughout  Europe  and  the  East,  Galen  was  the  recognized  authority 
in  the  science  of  medicine. 

G — Doge  (the  Venetian  modified  form  of  the  Italian  duce,  from 
the  Latin  dux,  a  leader  or  duke)  was  the  title  of  the  chief  magis- 
trate of  the  Republic  of  Venice.  The  dignity,  or  office,  was  called 
Dogato.  The  incumbent  was  always  elected  for  life,  and  was  origi- 
nally chosen  by  universal  suffrage.  He  continued  to  acquire  more 
and  more  irresponsible  authority,  until,  in  1033  and  1172,  laws  were 
passed  which,  in  various  ways,  greatly  reduced  his  power.  These  in- 
cluded the  association  with  him  of  a  body  of  470  councilors,  known 
as  the  Great  Council.  At  the  same  time  universal  suffrage  was 
abolished. 

In  1268,  the  doge — "King  in  the  forum,  senator  in  the  legislative 
hall,  prisoner  in  the  palace" — was  elected  by  a  peculiarly  complex 
method,  which  remained  in  vogue,  with  but  little  change,  until  the 
fall  of  the  Republic:  thirty  members  of  the  Great  Council,  elected  by 
ballot,  chose  nine  members;  they,  in  their  turn,  chose  forty;  twelve 
of  these  forty,  selected  by  lot,  chose  twenty- five;  the  twenty-five 
were  reduced  to  nine;  the  nine  elected  forty-five;  the  forty- five  were 
reduced  to  eleven;  and  the  eleven  chose  the  final  forty-one,  in  whose 
hands  lay  the  actual  election  of  the  doge.  The  powers  of  the  doge 
became,  in  time,  so  restricted  as  to  be  little  more  than  nominal;  and 
the  constant  espionage  to  which  he  was  subjected,  made  the  office 
less  sought  for  than  in  the  past;  indeed,  in  1339,  it  was  necessary  to 
forbid,  by  law,  the  resignation  of  the  incumbent.  There  were,  in  all, 
one  hundred  and  twenty  doges;  the  first,  Paolo  Lucio  Anafesto,  was 
elected  in  697;  the  last,  Lodovico  Manin,  in  1789.  Of  the  whole 
number,  the  Cornaro  family  furnished  four. 

H — After  the  dignity  of  Doge,  that  of  Procurator  of  St.  Mark 
(Italian,  Procuratore  di  San  Marco)  was  the  highest.  Originally, 
there  was  only  one  procurator;  but,  in  1442,  the  number  was  increased 
to  nine.  They  discharged  functions  of  a  varied  and  responsible 
character,  and  were  designated  as  follows:  the  procurator  de  supra 
(above),  in  whose  care  was  the  imposing  Basilica  of  St.  Mark — one 
of  the  most  interesting  churches  in  Europe,  begun  in  828  but  not 
consecrated  until  mi — as  well  as  the  revenues  attached  to  it;  the 
procurator  de  citra  (this  side),  who  had  charge  of  the  charitable  works 
on  "this  side";  and  the  procurator  de  ultra  (beyond),  who  had  charge 
of  them  on  "that  side," — of  the  Grand  Canal.  As  the  office  was  be- 
stowed only  upon  the  foremost  men  of  the  day,  it  was  occupied  by 
many  whose  names  form  a  part  of  Venetian,  and  often  of  European, 
history.  Twenty-two  members  of  the  Cornaro  family  are  found  in 
this  roll  of  illustrious  men,  which  ended  with  the  fall  of  the  Republic. 

I — The  Euganean  Hills  (Italian,  Colli  Euganei)  were  so  named 
from  the  people,  who,  according  to  Livy,  occupied  this  territory  until 

[211] 


THE   ART    OF    LIVING   LONG 

driven  out  by  the  Veneti.  The  highest  point  is  Monte  Venda.  These 
hills  are  covered  with  a  luxuriant  growth,  and  the  views  from  their 
summits  are  the  finest  in  all  Italy.  It  was  the  red  larch,  and  the 
granitic  and  porphyritic  rocks  abounding  there,  that  were  largely  used 
in  the  construction  of  the  Doge's  Palace — built  originally  about  the 
year  820 — and  other  famous  buildings  of  Venice.  Of  the  many  col- 
lections of  prehistoric  relics  found  in  these  hills,  that  in  the  Museum 
of  Antiquities  of  Mantua  is  especially  interesting  and  valuable.  With 
lovers  of  musical  verse,  Shelley's  poem,  "Lines  Written  Among  the 
Euganean   Hills,"  has  long  been  a  familiar  favorite. 

J — Danielle  (Daniel)  Barbaro,  an  Italian  ecclesiastic  and  Patri- 
arch of  Aquileia,  was  born  at  Venice,  in  1513.  He  was  an  extensive 
writer,  among  his  works  being  a  treatise,  "On  Eloquence,"  and  a  com- 
mentary, "On  the  Architecture  of  Vitruvius";  the  latter  contributing 
largely  toward  the  return  to  the  classical  style  of  architecture.  His 
beautiful  residence,  a  unique  specimen  of  the  villas  of  the  Venetian 
nobility  of  the  period,  was  created  and  adorned  by  the  united  genius 
of  three  of  the  great  artists  of  the  Renaissance, — Andrea  Palladio, 
Paolo  Veronese,  and  AUessandro  Vittoria, — and  was  a  noted  center  of 
arts   and   letters.     He    died   in    1570. 

K — Aquileia,  an  ancient  city  at  the  head  of  the  Adriatic,  22  miles 
northwest  of  Trieste,  was  colonized  by  the  Romans  about  181  B.  C. 
At  a  later  period  it  was  chosen  by  Julius  Caesar  as  headquarters  for 
his  forces  in  Cisalpine  Gaul.  In  160,  the  Emperor  Marcus  Aurelius 
Antoninus  fortified  it  so  strongly  that  it  was  considered  the  first 
bulwark  of  the  Roman  Empire  against  the  northern  barbarians,  and 
was  called  The  Second  Rome.  At  one  time  it  was  the  capital  and 
first  city  of  Venetia.  In  the  5th  century  it  had  100,000  inhabitants; 
but,  in  452,  it  was  destroyed  by  Attila,  King  of  the  Huns,  and  the 
inhabitants  fled  to  the  lagoons  on  which  Venice  now  stands.  From 
this  it  never  fully  recovered;  yet,  rebuilt,  it  continued  to  enjoy  con- 
siderable prosperity.  At  the  council  of  556,  the  Bishop  of  Aquileia 
separated  from  the  Church  of  Rome  and  took  the  title  of  Patriarch. 
In  1420,  Venice  deprived  it  of  most  of  its  possessions;  and,  in  the 
latter  half  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  Patriarchate  was  abolished. 
The  city  is  said  to  have  derived  its  name  from  the  Latin  aquila,  an 
eagle  having  appeared  as  a  favorable  omen  to  its  founders;  but  it  is 
more  probable  that  the  name  owes  its  origin  to  the  fact  that  the 
"aquila"  was  the  standard  of  the  Romans.  The  population  is  now 
about  2,000. 

L — The  Cornelii  ranked  among  the  most  illustrious  of  the  patri- 
cian families  of  Rome,  and  no  other  house  produced  a  greater  number 
of  individuals  who  notably  distinguished  themselves  in  war  and 
civil  affairs.  To  this  family  belonged  Cornelia, — daughter  of  the 
famous   Scipio,   and   wife   of  Tiberius   Sempronius   Gracchus, — who   is 

[212] 


NOTES 

known  in  history  not  only  as  Cornelia,  Mother  of  the  Gracchi,  but 
also  as  the  purest  woman  mentioned  in  the  historical  period  of  Rome. 
She  was  the  mother  of  twelve  children  and  lived  to  extreme  old  age, 
dying  about  130  B.  C. 

M — The  Bucentaur  (Italian,  II  Bucentoro),  the  state  galley  of 
the  Venetian  doges,  was  employed  to  conduct  illustrious  guests, 
whom  the  Republic  delighted  to  honor,  to  the  Ducal  Palace.  It  was 
also  used  in  the  ceremony  of  espousing  the  Adriatic,  into  whose 
waters  the  doge  dropped  a  ring,  with  these  words:  "We  espouse  thee, 
Sea,  in  token  of  true  and  perpetual  sovereignty."  This  historic 
custom,  which  was  in  itself  a  proclamation  and  a  challenge  to  the 
world,  originated  in  the  celebration  of  the  triumph,  in  1177,  of  the 
Venetians  under  Sebastiano  Ziani,  the  39th  doge,  over  the  forces  of 
Frederick  I.  (Barbarossa),  Emperor  of  Germany;  and  was  annually 
observed,  without  interruption  and  with  all  its  original  pomp  and 
splendor,  from  that  year  until  the  close  of  the  Republic  in  1797.  The 
galley,  100  feet  long  and  21  feet  in  extreme  breadth,  was  manned  by 
168  rowers,  four  to  each  oar,  and  by  40  sailors.  Its  fittings,  gorgeous 
in  the  extreme,  were  brilliant  with  scarlet  and  gold;  its  long  banks 
of  oars  brightly  burnished;  and  its  deck  and  seats  inlaid  with  costly 
woods.  The  ship  perhaps  received  its  name  from  the  figure  of  a 
bucentaur — head  of  a  man  and  body  of  a  bull — in  the  bow. 

N — The  Golden  Book  (Italian,  II  Libro  d'Oro),  was  the  parch- 
ment register  in  which  were  kept  the  complete  records  of  the  births, 
marriages,  deaths,  etc.,  of  all  the  members  of  the  Venetian  hereditary 
nobility.  Anyone  enrolled  in  this  famous  register,  had  he  attained 
the  age  of  twenty-five  and  been  found  worthy,  was  eligible  to  mem- 
bership in  the  Great  Council.  It  was  a  unique  institution;  opened  in 
1315,  it  enjoyed  a  duration  of  centuries,  until  it  was  closed,  forever, 
in  the  fatal  year  of  1797.  It  is  now  among  the  archives  of  the 
Republic. 

O — Bartolomeo  (Bartholomew)  Gamba,  a  noted  Italian  biog- 
rapher and  author,  was  born  at  Bassano, — on  the  river  Brenta,  in 
northern  Italy, — May  15,  1766.  As  a  distinguished  printer  and  editor, 
he  was  elected,  in  1831,  Vice-Librarian  of  the  Marciana.  There  he 
acquired  such  fame  as  a  bibliographer,  that  he  was  made  a  member 
of  several  Italian  academies,  including  the  one  at  Florence.  Among 
his  many  writings,  acknowledged  to  be  of  great  merit,  are:  "A  Gallery 
of  the  Literati  and  Artists  of  the  Venetian  Provinces  in  the  Eight- 
eenth Century"  (1824),  and  his  "Life  of  Dante"  (1825).  He  died 
May  3,  1841- 

P — Caius  Cilnius  Maecenas,  a  celebrated  Roman  statesman,  and 
the  most  influential  patron  of  literature  at  Rome,  was  born  about 
70  B.  C,  of  an  ancient  and  noble  Etruscan  family.  He  was,  for  many 
years,  the  intimate  friend,  as  well  as  chief  minister  and  adviser,  of 

[213] 


THE   AET   OF   LIVING   LONG 

the  Emperor  Augustus,  by  whom  he  was  held  in  the  highest  respect 
and  honor.  His  palace,  on  the  Esquiline  Hill,  was  long  the  prin- 
cipal resort  of  the  literati  of  Rome.  It  was  chiefly  due  to  his 
aid  that  the  poets  Horace  and  Virgil  were  granted  the  means  for 
the  enjoyment  of  literary  leisure;  and  the  latter  wrote  his  "Geor- 
gics"  at  the  request  of  his  benefactor.  His  death,  occurring  at  Rome, 
in  the  year  8  B.  C,  was  considered  by  all — especially  by  Augustus — 
an  irreparable  loss.  As  early  as  the  ist  century  his  name  had  become 
proverbial  as  a  patron  of  letters;  indeed,  among  all  the  names — 
royal,  noble,  or  otherwise  eminent — associated  with  their  patronage, 
none  in  ancient  or  modern  times  is  so  familiarly  known  as  that  of 
Mrecenas;  a  century  after  whose  death  the  poet  Martial  wrote:  "Let 
there  but  be  Maecenases,  and  Virgils  shall  not  be  lacking."  Maecenas 
is  a  familiar  character  in  Shakespeare's  "Antony  and  Cleopatra." 

Q — Ruzzante,  a  favorite  Italian  dramatic  poet,  whose  true  name 
was  Angelo  Beolco,  was  born  at  Padua,  in  1502.  Gifted  with  remark- 
able talent,  he  was  the  author  of  many  dialogues,  discourses,  and 
various  other  writings  in  the  rustic  Paduan  dialect,  which  he  had 
thoroughly  mastered.  The  large  number  of  comedies  which  he  com- 
posed were  all  highly  applauded  wherever  heard. 

A  few  young  men  of  good  family  accompanied  him  on  his 
travels  as  an  artist,  reciting,  as  he  did,  under  the  shelter  of  a  dis- 
guise— concealing  their  real  names  under  others  borrowed  from  the 
scenes  in  which  they  appeared.  In  the  recital  of  these  farces  he 
took  the  part  of  the  joker  or  jester  (Italian,  Ruzzante);  and  it  was 
to  this  circumstance  that  he  owed  his  sobriquet  of  Ruzzante,  which 
clung  to  him  ever  after.  Indeed,  from  that  time  on,  he  used  it 
instead  of  his  family  name;  it  even  appeared  in  his  works,  which  were 
published,  complete,  at  Vicenza,  in  1584,  1598,  and  1617,  under  the  title: 
"All  the  Works  of  the  Most  Famous  Ruzzante,  Newly  and  with  the 
Greatest  Diligence  Revised  and  Corrected."     He  died  March  17,  1542. 

R — Emilio  Lorenzo  Lovarini,  professor  of  Italian  literature  in  the 
royal  Liceo  (High  School)  Minghetti,  of  Bologna,  was  born  at  Venice, 
March  7,  1866.  His  youth  was  passed  in  Padua,  where  he  completed 
his  education,  receiving  his  degree  of  doctor  of  philology  from  the 
University  of  that  city,  July,  1889. 

Although  still  a  young  man.  Dr.  Lovarini  has  already  acquired 
considerable  reputation  as  an  authority  on  various  subjects,  his 
researches  covering  a  wide  range.  His  chief  writings  pertain  to  the 
customs,  dialect,  folk  lore,  and  rustic  literature  of  ancient  Padua; 
the  habits  and  pastimes  of  students  of  the  University  in  the  i6th 
century;  etc.  He  is  the  author,  also,  of  a  biography  of  Ruzzante, 
an  illustrated  critical  edition  of  whose  works  he  is  now  preparing. 
He  has  published  a  highly  interesting  work  on  gypsy  melodies,  and 
the  songs  of  Taranto. 

[214] 


Wetzel  Beos. 

Printing  Company, 

milwaukee 


DATE  DUE 

\k^  0^' 

m 

^PiV*     « 

UNIVERSITY  PRODUCTS,  INC.    #859-5503 

BOSTON  COLLEGE 


3  9031   01533677  9 


'89 


MAi 


1992 


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